The Burden of Rule
by ChaoticRice
Summary: When Larsa Solidor introduces a bill that would abolish the Chop System, members of the Imperial Senate lose all hopes in creating their perfect puppet emperor. As rumors of Larsa's possible death begin to form a path, Penelo can't stop herself from following it, only to find herself more captivated by the Empire than she ever thought possible. [slow burn Larnelo, WIP]
1. Imagine

711 Old Valendia.

Five years after the fall of the _Bahamut._

**1\. ****Imagine**

Larsa Solidor stood, paralyzed, aboard the Sky Fortress _Bahamut._

People were _dying _just outside the great warship – in the sky above Rabanastre. They were soldiers: husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. No matter what side of the war they stood, most did not fight out of hatred. They fought to defend their countries, as well as the lives of the innocent people in the city below; they did not deserve such violent deaths.

Larsa turned his head, and beside him, his brother Vayne stood tall with confidence, his eyes focused and calculating. Vayne was the epitome of strength – always calm, unwavering, and never losing sight of his goals. Ever talented, Vayne was a military genius who commanded respect with ease. As far as Larsa could remember, he had admired him greatly – as a leader, and a man of House Solidor.

Until today. Despite the Resistance announcing their surrender, Vayne decided to press on with the attack. As airships outside fell and crumbled into nothing, so too did any admiration Larsa had left for his brother.

His heart ached. Another airship fell from the sky. How many more people had to die today? Why must these people suffer while he watched from the safety of the Bahamut?

He had to do _something_. But he was not the emperor, no – it was Vayne who inherited that title when their dear father had passed. However, _he was there with him_. He could try to persuade Vayne to stop the senseless killings, to end the war right then and there. So Larsa tried, but his brother would not heed him. Larsa had never felt so powerless, and he hated it. He was always taught that words were powerful, but today, his words were meaningless. As Larsa continued to urge Vayne to stop the war, he both felt and heard his voice fade into nothing. And even though his lips moved and his throat ached from screaming, his voice was completely muted – it was useless.

All he could do now was try to slow his breathing.

The devastating echo of airships shooting, crashing, and crumbling bled through the walls of the Bahamut. Distant screams rang in Larsa's ears even through the warship's paling. And over the sound of it all, Vayne's words rang the loudest.

"Observe well, Larsa," Vayne commanded, and a hidden ferocity began seething through his usual calmness. "Watch and mark you the suffering of one who must rule, yet lacks the power."

It was a warning, Larsa knew – one that was directed only at him. Should he become Emperor, and should he fail to lead his people…

But he didn't have time to think on that now, as he saw the Princess Ashe of Dalmasca and her party approaching them.

Vayne narrowed his eyes at the princess. "Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule. Weep for Dalmasca, for she is lost!"

Larsa looked up at Vayne, and no longer saw his brother – instead, a malicious gaze pierced through him with eyes that glowed red. And when Vayne spoke to him so coldly, it was as though nothing remained of his humanity. "What of you, my dear little brother? Are you fit to bear the burden of rule? As I weep for Dalmasca and their powerless Queen, should I too, then, weep for Archadia's future?"

This was not right, Larsa thought, as he failed to slow his breath. This was not how it happened. None of this was right – neither his brother's words, nor his inability to _do something_. In this moment, he was supposed to cast his fear aside and _fight _his brother. Instead, he was allowing it to fester – and soon it spread from his stomach to his heart, and it consumed him until his entire body trembled.

He turned around and _ran_.

He ran faster than he ever had before, the world blurring around him into a sea of red light. His breathing became heavier, and the rapid pounding of his heartbeat echoed in his ear. There wasn't enough air to _breathe_, and there wasn't enough distance he could put between himself and the stranger who wore his brother's face.

Larsa woke, gasping. His rapid heart and airless lungs pulled him out of his dream and into reality. He sat up and took a deep breath, allowing himself to calm.

But that was no dream, he thought, as he felt beads of sweat run down the sides of his face and onto his neck. It was a nightmare – the third one this week.

After the red lights of the Bahamut and Vayne's malicious eyes quickly faded from his memory, one thing remained: the echo of his late brother's last words.

_"Are you fit to bear the burden of rule?"_

When he tried to remember more, the painful pulsing in his head ripped him from his thoughts. Pounding since the day before, his headache was relentless, and it engulfed the entire left hemisphere of his skull with a blanket of knives.

He heard a firm, yet gentle knock on the door, followed by a voice. "Are you awake, my lord?" He recognized Basch's deep timbre filtered through a judge's helmet.

Larsa had asked him long ago to please call him by his name – but unfortunately for him, Basch was a man of formality. With unwavering fealty, Basch had been serving as his Judge Magister for five years now. However, he was more than Larsa's personal guard, and he was more than a commander of the military. Over the years, Basch had become family – the closest Larsa had, as there was no one else in Ivalice who bore the blood of House Solidor.

"Yes," Larsa called, "You may come in."

The door automatically opened with a hiss and Basch entered the room in full armor that clinked with each step he took. He removed his helmet, revealing a warm smile – Basch loved mornings. "Did you sleep well?"

Larsa _wanted _to say yes. But in truth, he hadn't had a decent night of sleep all week, and his pounding head and empty lungs didn't grant him the strength to tell his usual white lie. He brought his hand to his left temple and attempted to ease his pain with a gentle massage. "I am afraid not," he admitted, his voice hoarse with dehydration.

Basch's smile fell. "I am sorry to hear that." He looked down at a white envelope in his hand. "But perhaps this will lift your spirits." He walked over to Larsa and handed it to him.

Upon taking it, Larsa immediately recognized the Queen of Dalmasca's seal- but once he opened the envelope and pulled out its contents – a single-page letter – he knew it was not from Ashe. He recognized the soft, rounded ink strokes as Penelo's handwriting. And as he looked over his friend's delicate, yet whimsical penmanship, he could almost ignore the pain in his head.

After the war, everyone had parted ways. The year 706 was coming to a close, and Larsa worried he would not see or hear from Penelo ever again, so he sent out a letter in hopes to maintain their friendship. Just when he started to think she wasn't planning on writing back, he received a reply, and they've been writing to each other ever since.

But before he could begin reading the letter, Basch had one more thing to say. "Just a reminder: your meeting with the Senate leaders will begin shortly. I will wait for you outside."

"Thank you, Basch." Larsa was truly grateful for all he did for him – especially now with this pounding head. He gave him a small smile, and as Basch took his leave, Larsa began to read the letter.

...

_Dear Larsa,_

_How are you these days? I overheard Archadian sky pirates from Balfonheim spreading rumors that you're falling ill, but I know it isn't true; you're one of the strongest people I know._

_Anyway, today I'm not writing to catch up. Ashe has assigned me to invite you to her twenty-fifth birthday celebration at the end of this week._

_I know you're busy, and have been for the past few years (five, right? Or is it six now?), but it would be nice to see you again. My troupe will be performing a new routine in Ashe's honor. It should be our best performance yet!_

_I hope all is well with you. You're my best friend; please don't forget that. If those rumors are true: please take care of yourself._

_Your friend who misses you,_

_Penelo_

_..._

Larsa's lips curved into a tired, yet sincere smile. Penelo's words warmed his heart – they always did. He hoped he had been able to do the same for her.

Guilt struck him like a blade to the chest – had he really been neglecting his friendship with Penelo?

It had been nearly three years since he last saw her – at Ashe's birthday celebration as well. He had been invited every year, and he attended the first two. But every year after that, he had been far too consumed in his country to leave it. The reconstruction, expansion, and integration of Old Archades was a task far more overwhelming than Larsa could ever have imagined. The bill barely passed into law – a narrow victory with the Senate's final vote at 14 – 11 in favor of the bill. Despite its status as a new district being passed into law, and its new name given, the district of Orbon, there were those who still saw it as Old Archades. To the gentry of Tsenoble, Orbon was a district designated for the poor, and they wanted nothing to do with it.

There was still so much classism, entitlement, stubbornness and materialism, and Larsa was losing his patience for all of it.

Immediately after his inauguration, Larsa had worked tirelessly day and night to bring this new district to the capital – all while helping Ashe with the reconstruction of Dalmasca. And yet for Larsa, it wasn't enough. The Empire's hands were still stained with blood, and there was still so much _work _to do.

He supposed this was exactly why, after the war, he, Ashe and Al-Cid decided to form the Council of Ivalice: a gathering of leaders and ambassadors that met every year in hopes of promoting and maintaining peace. The meetings served as a time when leaders could learn from each other, but once a year wasn't enough for him – not when he was still so young, and there was still much room for improvement.

A part of him wished he had someone to guide him, as Lord Al-Cid had his own father and brothers in Rozarria. And yet, he wished to forge his own path, as Lady Ashe seemed to be accomplishing so well. As a child, in times of doubt Larsa would turn to his father and brother. As the fourth and fifth Emperors born of House Solidor, Gramis and Vayne had built a great reputation - one that was far too heavy for Larsa to uphold on his own. Were they here, he would seek their council. However, they had left the world long ago; who was he to turn to now?

Larsa took a deep breath and exhaled a heavy sigh that relieved only a small fraction of the figurative weight he felt on his shoulders. He looked over Penelo's words once more, and took them to heart. He gazed out the window to his left and saw a clear blue sky, and it reminded him of Dalmasca.

"Perhaps I overburden myself," faintly, he verbalized thoughts he should have stated long ago. Recently, most of his thinking had been out loud – it was the only way any thought could stand out amongst the hoard of ideas, worries, plans, and regrets that crowded his mind every day. "But there is far too much progress to be made, if I am to build a better world." His words reached no one's ears but his own, and now more than ever before, he wished his friend was here to hear them.

A wave of peace washed over him as he gazed into the soft blue of the summer sky, and it was then he understood how someone could choose to live the life of a sky pirate – sometimes he wished he could just fly away from it all too.

But he couldn't. He had that meeting with the Senate leaders to attend – one that he had been anticipating for months now. He wasn't going to let anything stop him from introducing this next bill – not even this damned, pounding, _headache._

* * *

The Secondary Senate Chamber was a smaller, quieter version of the primary, and was used only for meetings between the Emperor and the four Senate leaders – including the Chairman. Of all the rooms in the Imperial Palace, Larsa especially liked this one for its exceptionally large windows that extended from floor to ceiling, allowing for natural light. In the mornings, the gentle rays of the sunrise peered in through the windows and softly blanketed the chamber in its warmth, and Larsa likened it to the glow of magicite.

During the days of Lord Gramis's reign, Senate meetings were always shrouded in darkness, held in windowless rooms well-hidden within the underground levels of the Imperial Palace, impossible for any Rozarrian spy to find. However, on the day of Larsa's first meeting with the Senate, the poor, dim light left his mind so clouded and unfocused, he did not hesitate to remove himself from such a grim room, and asked the senators to join him in finding a chamber with proper lighting.

On this particular morning, however, Larsa wished he could reverse time and stop himself from making such a foolish mistake. In front of him, Basch stepped forward to trigger the automatic doors to the Senate Chamber, which opened with a swift hiss_. _Instead of the inviting glow he was familiar with, today the sun's rays were blades of steel to Larsa's sensitized retinas: a most unfortunate symptom of his headaches. Maintaining a pleasant expression on his face as not to offend the senators, he tried not to squint as he entered the room, instead settling on directing his gaze to the floor.

"Emperor Larsa of House Solidor," Basch's voice boomed through his helmet as he announced his arrival. Unfortunately for Larsa, sound was also amplified by his headaches, and every excruciating syllable of the announcement made his head pound harder.

The Senate leaders each silenced themselves and stood as Larsa entered the chamber, his boot-bound footsteps echoing off the walls as he strode. They did not sit again until Larsa took his seat at the head of the round table.

"Good morning, Senators," Larsa greeted them calmly, masking the discomfort that pulsed in his eyes and head. "Thank you for joining me for today's meeting." As he spoke, Basch made his way around the table and handed to each senator a copy of a new bill. "Tis the first day of the month, and as such I thought it a time appropriate enough to introduce a new beginning for Archadia – one I hope will further our cause for peace. If you would all please turn to page one of the bill, I can begin the introduction."

The senators removed their focus from Larsa and glanced at each other with a mixture of curiosity, caution and anticipation as they flipped over the cover pages of the bill. The sounds of rustling paper faded into silence, and Larsa began. "Fifty-First Imperial Senate – First Session," Larsa took a deep breath, and the pounding of his heart calmed. "I.S. One-Thousand, Three-Hundred and Thirty-Three: For the purpose of abolishing the use of Chops as proof of status, a requirement for entry to the Imperial City of Archades, and all its districts. And also, for the purpose of abolishing the existence of social status, including the titles of ardent and gentry."

It was as if a bomb had been dropped in the Senate Chamber. Eyes widened and brows rose as senators sent messages of concern to each other with nothing more than sharp glances. Larsa could sense the newly created tension in the room, but he wasn't going to allow the senators to object – not yet.

"We, the citizens of Archades, pride ourselves on our knowledge, yet we do not seek it beyond the walls of our own city. Our minds are trapped in our own country and culture, ignorant to the world around us. Allowing free entry into our city will open our minds to new information. This will grant us not only knowledge of facts, but understanding and compassion for those from other nations. These are important factors needed in order to promote and maintain the peace we have worked tirelessly to create between Archadia, and all of Ivalice."

The moment of silence was interrupted by the sound of Chairman Garamondt clearing his throat. Willard Franck Garamondt was an older gentleman of sixty-five, and had been a member of the senate for nearly twenty years. The senate appointed him Chairman after the death of Gregoroth, and he accepted the position with much respect.

"Your Excellency," Garamondt's voice was always coarse due to his frequent coughing. His gray eyes were wide, and his brows, just as gray, rose in alarm. "By introducing this bill, are you admitting that it is your full intention to abolish the Chop System in its entirety?"

Larsa looked Garamondt right in the eyes. "Yes, Chairman. That is my full intention." It was then that Larsa pushed his chair back and stood, tossing protocol out of those extremely bright windows. He began to saunter around the table, arms held behind his back. "In this time of peace, the Chop System has become outdated. Do not mistake me: I do believe it was established with noble intentions. To place importance on the value of knowledge and generosity is noble, however: it has come with a price." Halfway through his circle, he stopped next to a window, the bright light from it compelling him to squint.

He turned, the eyes of the Senate watching him, and he continued his walk. "We have become a society obsessed with gaining power over others, aiding those in need only when there is something to be gained, and that is not _true _generosity. Instead, it is a means to prove we are superior to those we help. Those with no chops are never granted any favors, and are thus perpetually at a disadvantage. That does not sit right with me, and it never has. It is time to end this." Larsa found his seat and returned to it.

An irritatingly familiar baritone cut in. "Your Excellency, forgive me for my plainness, but this is _extreme. _" A man of forty-five, Bacchus Caine was twenty-eight years Larsa's senior, yet his manner would seem to prove otherwise. Despite having only served as Senator for one term prior, he had somehow proven himself fit to be elected a Leader, to speak on behalf of the Senate. Perhaps it was his charisma, Larsa thought, or maybe his courage to speak as plainly as he did – too plainly, at times.

"I agree – it is," Larsa admitted, "But I believe there are circumstances when we must be."

"Your Lord Brother once held the same belief, if I recall correctly." Caine responded, not hesitating to curve his lips into a victorious smirk. Vayne was a sensitive subject for Larsa, and he disliked being compared to him, and Caine knew that.

Larsa narrowed his eyes out of annoyance now rather than to keep the sunlight out. "The beliefs of my late brother bear no relevance to what we are discussing today."

Caine's smirk remained. "My apologies for venturing off subject, my lord."

Chairman Garamondt cleared his throat with a rough _ahem_, and the echo of it brought everyone back to focus. "Your Excellency, my main concern is with Title I of the bill: eliminating the chop requirements to enter the city. It lacks a replacement for the Chop System in terms of _security_. As I hope you can recall from your history lessons, the Chop System had more intended purposes than those you have mentioned."

_'As I hope you can recall?' Does he think me a mindless, ignorant child?_

Of course there were other intentions for the Chop System: Those taught in formal history lessons, and those that were withheld from public knowledge. "Yes," Larsa replied, "It was also created to discriminate and exclude."

"What you call discrimination, we call _security,"_ Garamondt challenged, "The Chop System was created to keep enemies _out,_ and it has proven successful for nearly two _centuries. _Not once since its enactment has our city been under threat. I see no reason to eliminate such an effective system, especially at a time when war is still fresh in the minds of our former enemies."

_Must he be so paranoid? _"And I see no reason to keep a security system that is unnecessary," Larsa challenged, "We are at a time of peace. The Rozarrian Empire is no longer our enemy, as you said. House Margrace has loosened border security in their own capital; I feel we should do the same. My friendships with Lord Al-Cid and Lady Ashe hold strong; should either Rozarria or Dalmasca ever bear ill intent on us, I would hear of it through them."

"Your Excellency," Senator Caine intervened, and he was folding his arms now, resting his back fully against his chair. _How could he be so relaxed? _"You may hold friendships with some of Ivalice's leaders, but they do not represent everyone. Surely you don't honestly believe that? Do you believe your policies represent the entirety of Archadia? It is my knowledge that they, and you, do not."

_He's veering from the subject once again, all to paint me as some naïve child._

But Caine wasn't finished. "Furthermore – I understand that at your age, five years is quite a length of time still. But to us, and many of our former enemies, warships flew the skies just yesterday."

That was it. That was the last he could stand from Caine, the last he could stand of any rude interruptions, and the last he could stand from this pounding, piercing, _headache._

"I did not plan this meeting to be insulted for my youth." Larsa had no patience to hide an irritable tone. He allowed his eyes to rest on the table. He couldn't stand to look at it all: the sunlight that just got _brighter _as the minutes passed, and that disgustingly smug smirk on Senator Caine's face.

A soft sigh of fake regret left Caine's lips. "Forgive me, your Grace. I have overstepped."

Chairman Garamondt cleared his throat louder than he had all morning. "Disregarding the last of Senator Caine's comment, I too am concerned with the possibility that we may have enemies Lord Al-Cid and Queen Ashe are unaware of. If we are to eliminate the entry fees to the city, I suggest we establish a new security system in its stead. We simply cannot be left without one. Do you remember, Your Excellency, when you swore on oath to Archadia to put the safety of its citizens first?"

"Of course I remember, Chairman, and that is what I intend to do." Larsa's calm tone belied his frustration within. Of _course _he remembered his inauguration. Of _course _he remembered his promise to protect his people who he loved so dearly. How dare anyone question his loyalty to his country?

Larsa's head pounded harder now, the pain so sharp it broke his composure. He closed his eyes and leaned forward onto the table to rest his face in his left hand, massaging his temples with thumb and forefinger. Breathing was all he had the strength to do. "We will find a solution to this I am sure," he inhaled, "one that does not discriminate against those who wish us no harm."

The newest Senate Leader, Danfordt Brutias Rhys, finally broke his silence. The smooth hum of his voice was always a relief compared to the stern tone of the Chairman. "Your Excellency, are you alright?" he asked, "You look pale."

Larsa inhaled a breath so deep he was sure the senators could hear it. "I do not feel well," he responded, and the room had begun to spin ever so slightly, the windows across from him blurring into a whirlwind of piercing light. He pushed his hand down on the table for support as he stood up. "Forgive me," he breathed, "It appears I have neglected my health in this past month. It is unfortunate that I must postpone this meeting until further notice. Thank you for your time, Senators, and good day to you all."

Larsa gladly left the Senate Chamber, paying no mind to the stunned faces that watched him.

Basch hastily followed him into the hallway. "My Lord, what happened?" He said, and Larsa could imagine the Judge's concerned expression at the sight of him massaging his left temple. "Your head – the pain is becoming more frequent, I fear."

"Worry not; it will soon subside," Larsa reassured him. _Unless it decides to plague me for the remainder of the day._ "Basch, did you also receive an invitation from Lady Ashe?"

"Yes, I did," Basch answered, and Larsa could hear in his voice that he didn't understand why he would ask such a question at this moment.

"Well, I was thinking," Larsa stopped and turned to gaze at the doors behind him. "Since it appears our Chairman thinks he can rule Archadia single-handedly, perhaps he would not mind should I leave the Empire's burdens on _his _shoulders for the next three days." His lips curved into a mischievous smile no one saw.

"My lord – do you abandon your empire?" It was the concern in Basch's voice that drove Larsa to turn around. He was far too worried about this, and Larsa was far too tired. He looked up at Basch with exhausted, pleading eyes.

"Basch - I have overburdened myself, and I do not wish to fall ill. If this visit can heal my mind and body, then it is no abandonment. Let us go; I would like to reach Dalmasca before nightfall."

* * *

After a brief recess, Basch notified the Senate Leaders of Larsa's plan to depart to Dalmasca, and that their next meeting would be held the day after his return. His stay in the chamber was short, and he soon left to prepare for the flight.

Chairman Garamondt approached the round table, his expression contemplative. "Our young emperor cries of head pain and flees to Dalmasca. What are we to do with such a delicate flower?" He sighed as he took his seat.

"Chairman, do you speak ill of our emperor?" Rhys questioned.

"No," Garamondt furrowed his brows. "I speak of _concern_, Senator Rhys. Even so, this is no dictatorship. I am free to speak my mind, whatever I think."

Rhys sighed and shook his head, the dark curls of his hair bouncing slightly along with the motion.

Garamondt leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. He sighed as he clasped his hands. "I must admit, when his Excellency Lord Larsa was appointed Emperor, I had imagined he would be much more... compliant. He has grown to be a stubborn young man, much like his late brother."

Calm and composed, Rhys sat up with a clean posture that contrasted the Chairman's hunched shoulders. "That may be true, but unlike Vayne, Lord Larsa does not thirst for war. Surely that is an improvement?" And when he saw Garamondt narrow his eyes, unconvinced, he continued. "It is also worth noting that it was _he _who reinstated the Senate after Vayne's demise."

"Hmph," Garamondt shook his head, "And for that we are grateful. However, let us not look past his faults. 'Tis true he thirsts not for war, but neither does he prepare for it. The extent of his pacifism could cost us lives in the event we were to be invaded. He has disbanded our military so greatly I fear even Dalmasca could invade us successfully, small as their numbers are. Lord Larsa may be a man grown now, but he is still young and naïve. He believes talks of peace are enough to shield us from attack."

A cold snicker echoed across the chamber, inviting Rhys and Garamondt to follow it.

Bacchus Caine's body shook with laughter.

"Oh? What say you, Senator Caine?" the Chairman commanded, eyes narrowed. He was too old to be dealing with the laughter of children.

Everyone could hear the smirk in Caine's voice. "What say I? _Forgive me_, but I say Lord Larsa is the most radical, unorthodox, _disrespectful _emperor in Archadia's history."

The chamber went silent as all eyes watched Caine.

He didn't let their looks of shock stop him from continuing. He sat upright and unfolded his arms. "He disregards our laws and traditions, weakens our military, raises taxes and merges Old Archades with our capital. Now he criticizes our Chop System? What other foundations does he wish to rip out from under us?" He shook his head. "Even his form of dress disrespects tradition. Have you noticed his refusal to wear the Imperial diadem and robes passed down from his late father? Not to mention his disregard for his own safety: he traipses around the open streets unguarded, without a care in the world, as though being Emperor did not make him a target of possible attack. How could Lord Gramis have raised such in irresponsible child?"

The Senate leaders remained silent, considering over his words.

"And now it would appear he is falling ill. I question if he can bear the burden of empire." Caine crossed his arms, relaxing against his chair once again. He had spoken his piece.

A voice weak with age chimed in, "Yes, our young lord's energy appears to be dropping." At the ripe age of seventy-nine, Ronulas Willmundt was the oldest member of the Senate. "Some of you were not here when his mother was alive, but I recall she had her own illnesses. Lady Ellissa was a frail, skittish woman. She feared everything and everyone; she scarcely stepped foot outside the palace."

Rhys furrowed his brows. "You worry Lord Larsa takes after his mother?"

Willmundt shook his head slightly. "I will not rule out the possibility. And from what I have seen, these illnesses take time to develop."

The soft voices of Rhys and Willmundt were drowned out by the commanding echo of their Chairman. "_Never mind what his mother was like_," he snapped, "I am more concerned with this bill. We have much to discuss in the next three days; I suggest we begin immediately."

Cain hastily interjected. "Chairman, I have one more concern, if I may."

Garamondt sighed heavily. "_Yes_, if you will."

"If his Excellency does fall ill: what are we to do without an Emperor?"

* * *

The Grand Hall of the Royal Palace of Rabanastre was impressive in its scale, but even more so in the details of the architecture. Larsa entered with Basch, craning his neck to admire the height of the entryway that towered over them. Royal guardsmen closed the doors behind them with a thunderous roar, the echo of it rippling through the air.

The tapping of footsteps against stone floors traveled from across the hall, and there she was – Queen Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca – approaching to greet them. A post-war world had done wonders for her; she looked absolutely radiant.

"Welcome. It is so good to see you again." Her smile had widened to a grin when she met them in the center of the hall. "Larsa," she greeted, and when she turned to regard the other man, she leaned in, "Basch." She spoke softly, so his true name could not reach disloyal ears.

Basch removed the horned helmet from his head, revealing a grin of his own, and he was no longer the Judge Magister Gabranth. "Your Grace, it has been far too long."

Ashe's eyes met his. "It has," she then turned to regard Larsa – looking _up _now. If Larsa recalled correctly, they were the same height when he last visited. "Three years now, is it? Last we met, you were still a child."

Guilt hit Larsa for the second time that day. He bowed his head. "I apologize," he said softly, then lifted his gaze to face her again. "I mean to visit more often, however, matters in Archades have been… difficult, to say the least."

Ashe gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have made much progress there; I am proud of you." The tone in her voice was warm and reassuring, and it was just what he needed to hear.

"As am I," Basch added, gladly placing his hand on Larsa's other shoulder.

Larsa smiled humbly, glancing at each of them. "I thank you both, but I am afraid my work is never-ending."

Ashe and Basch returned their hands to their sides. "Worry not of that now," Ashe shook her head. "Your primary concern should be joining me for dinner. You two must be hungry after your flight."

As she led them across the Grand Hall, for the first time in what felt like months, Larsa exhaled a sigh of relief.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This story is set to have 20 chapters, an intermission, and an epilogue.

This chapter was named after "Imagine" by John Lennon

Beta'd by Ridorana AO3


	2. Amber

**2\. Amber**

...

Rabanastre's Muthru Bazaar was _booming_.

The street was already filled with customers and merchants running about, even early on in the day; the bustle of it all sending clouds of dust and sand into the sunlit air. Some workers were setting up shop, while others had already made their first few sales. The shouts of merchants commanding their workers, the clinks of gil exchanged for goods, and the chatter of business was music to Larsa's ears. Finally, he could escape from his own thoughts. His smile was as warm as the Dalmascan sunrise – he missed Rabanastre _so much._

The bazaar had grown since his last visit, tremendously so, he noticed, as he strolled through the twists and turns of the newly added streets. The most notable recent addition was a corner dedicated to the arts: paintings, tapestries, crafts, and more. He was drawn to it by the calming, passionate vibrations of a long reed flute, played by an elderly man sitting comfortably on a patterned rug on the ground. Larsa left a generous tip in the basket that sat next to him, and the musician smiled gratefully in return as he continued to play.

Thankfully, no one seemed to recognize him. While a few Archadian tourists gave him a second look, none of them thought their Emperor could possibly be walking through a marketplace in Rabanastre unannounced and unattended, and certainly not dressed so ordinarily. No one stared, pointed, or stopped him for questions. It was nice to finally be able to _breathe_.

A line of shops selling imports from Rozarria stood together. Dalmasca and Rozarria had grown close after the war, and it was evident in their free trade agreement. Larsa had to admit to himself that he was somewhat jealous of their alliance. Lady Ashe and House Margrace had managed to unify their countries through trade, while Archadia remained isolated in the north. After the damage inflicted by his country in the past generation, he wouldn't blame them if they never wished for such an agreement with him.

Larsa strolled past a wide display of Rozarria's top exports: bags of dried fruits and nuts, bottles of wine, fresh vegatables, long dresses with wide skirts that resembled ocean waves, steel weapons, and more wine. Larsa chuckled to himself at the sight of that last shop; Rozarria _was_ known for their large vineyards, and their love of wine was boundless.

Next, he came across a tea shop. On the counter stood a display of glass jars of loose tea, and pots ready with hot tea to sample. He overheard the merchant, a bangaa male with beige and purple skin, informing a customer that the leaves derived from a variety of sources throughout Dalmasca and Rozarria, and he described the traditional uses for a few of them. Larsa wanted to know more.

After the merchant sold a bag of loose tea to the customer, Larsa asked him which of his teas was the most popular, and what their uses were. While most of the uses were interesting, they were of no relevance to him, except for one.

"…and this one here relieves stress." The merchant explained, and Larsa's eyes widened.

"Truly?"

"Yes it does, Sir!" The merchant gestured to a jar filled with a mixture of pink flower petals, dark green leaves and various spices. "The flowers of the Estersand cactoids cure many ailments. They have a bit of a calming effect, so one of its most popular uses is to aid in sleep. This tea is a blend of the cactoid flower with other herbs that can calm the muscles."

Sleep sounded _amazing._ "Excellent!" Larsa decided, "I would like to purchase a month's worth."

The bangaa's eyes lit up. "Of course, Sir!" After happily accepting Larsa's payment – along with a tip for his efforts – he handed over a tin canister a bit longer than Larsa's hand.

Just after Larsa took the canister, he heard a familiar voice from his left.

"Larsa?"

He turned his head towards the voice. In the morning sunlight, a cloud of dust dissipated, revealing a familiar face. Skin tanned from the sun met with short, feathery blonde hair, and an infectious grin.

"Hello, Vaan." Larsa approached his old friend and greeted him with a smile.

Vaan clapped his hand onto Larsa's shoulder, and the younger man almost lost his balance – a testament to how much Vaan's strength had increased over the years. "I can't believe it's you! You're here for Ashe's birthday too, right?"

Larsa chuckled. He missed Vaan's exuberance. "'Tis good to see you, Vaan," he greeted, "and yes."

Vaan let go of his shoulder. "Great! I just finished a hunt on my way back from Rozarria. Do you remember those panthers we fought in Golmore Jungle? It was like those but three times as big! Ashe was worried it would cause trouble with our imports, so she sent me. Why didn't you tell me you were visiting?"

"I apologize for not sending out a letter; I had just received my invitation yesterday."

Vaan's eyebrows rose. "Wow – Penelo's been slacking on her letter-writing duties."

_Penelo._ Just hearing her name warmed his heart. He chuckled once more, shaking his head. "I do not blame her. She told me she and her troupe have been working tirelessly on a routine for Lady Ashe's birthday."

Vaan nodded hastily. "Yeah – it's coming along great! They're doing a performance in the plaza in a few hours. Wanna check it out?"

Larsa's grin spread wide as he nodded. "Absolutely!"

"Alright!" Vaan's smile faded and he folded his arms as he looked down at Larsa, studying him. "Hey – I thought you'd be taller by now. Are they feeding you up there?"

Larsa raised his brows – he wasn't expecting that. But then again, Vaan always spoke plainly, didn't he? Larsa had grown taller since they last met, but so had Vaan. He chuckled. "Yes, I am well-fed, thank you. Why?"

Vaan shrugged. "I just thought you would have looked more like Vayne. But I guess things don't always turn out the way you expect, huh?"

Larsa smiled sheepishly. "I suppose in that regard I do not take after the men of my family. I was always told my mother was quite short, so I'm afraid I have almost reached my limit. Are you disappointed?"

Vaan nudged him in the arm. "Nah – You're fine the way you are." And in that moment, Larsa returned his smile, humbled to have him for a friend – humbled to be here. "Hey, why don't we get some breakfast in you?" Vaan offered, "You look like you need it."

When Larsa agreed, Vaan led him away from the tea shop, and they joined the current of market-goers.

* * *

..

The midday sun burned high in the sky, fierce and unrelenting. Yet despite its sweltering gaze, much of the town was gathered around the plaza, too entranced by a performance to notice their own parched tongues and trickling sweat. Behind Vaan, Larsa weaved through the crowd of Rabanastrans, following the deep vibrations of heavy drums that resonated in his bones. He recognized the sounds from previous visits – some were deep _dums _played with less beats, while others were higher pitched _teks_ played with high intensity and swiftness.

Larsa glanced at humes, seeqs, bangaa, moogles and viera as he passed through, admiring their grins as they enjoyed the show. Adults applauded and their children jumped and played and tried to copy the performers' movements. Women whooped and yelped in a way that was meant only for this type of dance. The energy was moving, and Larsa felt a sense of pride and love stir within him, beckoning his heart to match the swift beats of the drums.

Vaan found a clearing on the third row of the plaza steps, and that's when Larsa could finally see the performers. The Dancing Galbanas had become Dalmasca's most popular troupe, and it was evident in the passion and skill the dancers put into each movement. They all wore matching costumes in the bold red hue of the native flowers they were named for.

In the front row, a dancer spun in rhythm to the drums, her long blonde hair flowing in the air like a wave of sand.

_Penelo._

No matter how many years had passed, he could recognize his best friend anywhere.

"They're amazing, huh?" Vaan raised his voice to challenge the surrounding acclamation.

"Absolutely!" Larsa nodded, smiling.

"They're so good now. Penelo says they're thinking about touring across Dalmasca."

Larsa raised his eyebrows. "_Truly_?" He returned his eyes to the dancers, and a feeling of pride swelled in his heart for Penelo. While he was cooped up in a palace trying to govern a post-war Archadia, Penelo had built an empire of her own. But an empire did not simply stay in one place, did it? It only grew. "Why stop at Dalmasca?" he questioned, "They should tour across Ivalice. I would love to see them perform in Archades."

Vaan pulled his eyes away from the swaying hips of red and gold. "Archades?" His smile twisted into something uncertain. "I don't know about that, unless you can waive the chop fees for them as honored guests or something."

Larsa couldn't stop himself. "Soon chops will be nothing to worry about." He probably shouldn't have said that, but he was so full of bliss he cared not.

Either Vaan couldn't hear him over the drums and cheers, or he was surprised. "_What_?"

Larsa shouldn't have been saying this in the first place, let alone shouting it. He leaned closer to Vaan's ear so he could speak normally. "I hope you can keep a secret, Vaan."

"Of course!" Vaan exclaimed, and Larsa jumped in his seat at the volume. He really _shouldn't _be doing this, but Vaan was his friend, and he wanted to tell _someone_ about it.

He leaned in to Vaan's ear once more. "I have introduced to the Senate a bill that would abolish the Chop System." He backed away, and saw Vaan's eyes go wide.

"_No,_" Vaan exhaled, "This is huge! _Do you know what this means?_"

"Yes," Larsa answered, "Archades would be open to the world."

Vaan rubbed his nose with a side-to-side motion of his index finger, the way he always did. "To say the least, yeah."

"If only the Senate shared your enthusiasm; they did not seem too pleased with my announcement."

"_Pfft,_" Vaan waved his hand in dismissal, "Don't listen to those old geezers."

For the first time that week, Larsa laughed.

The speed of the drums intensified, and the dancers followed. They snapped their hips faster, gradually, until they reached a full shimmy – the gold coin sashes on their hips jingled along with the swift tempo. With their hips maintaining the rhythm, the dancers raised their arms above their heads slowly, gracefully, like birds preparing to take flight. With fingers pointed, their hands twirled in smooth, circular motions – a pair of hypnotizing whirlpools. The twirls continued as arms floated down, down, until hands masked their faces. Whirlpools became waves, separating to expose alluring eyes.

Larsa felt a tap on his shoulder bring him out of his trance. Vaan was looking at him now. "Hey Larsa, you see that woman over there? In the first row, on the left side of Penelo – the one with the dark hair?"

Larsa's eyes searched the front row of dancers and saw a woman with hair far darker than any Dalmascan he had ever seen. "Yes."

Vaan returned his hand to his side. "That's Madelena – she's one of Penelo's students. She looks different than other Dalmascans, doesn't she? That's 'cause her father is from Rozarria."

"I see." Larsa studied the dancer's confident composure, and couldn't imagine the persecution she must have endured while Dalmasca was under imperial rule – when her father's country was the enemy. It was more guilt he would bear with his heavy heart.

Vaan leaned in to Larsa's ear. "Imagine an Ivalice where no one is seen as foreign, or different, because we're all a part of each other. No one is seen as worth more or less than the other. Your bill can take part in creating that future."

Larsa smiled – finally someone understood.

Penelo spun once more, this time with an elegant, red silk veil in her hands, and it appeared to gently float in the air behind her. She was so strong, so graceful, and in a state of absolute bliss.

"Precisely. That is my exact vision."

* * *

..

Penelo was content.

After the war ended, Ashe was crowned Queen, and for the first time, Penelo felt it was possible to see a bright future for Dalmasca. Buildings damaged by the _Bahamut's_ wrath were restored. Imperials returned home, leaving Dalmasca with its freedom. Penelo would never forget the years of hardship she endured under the Empire, but with Ashe leading the way, she knew she could at least move on.

Once the city was fully restored, and there were no more reconstruction projects she could help with, Penelo had returned to her love of dance. She began with solo performances on the streets of Rabanastre's rapidly growing bazaar, and much to her delight, the mixed crowd of locals and tourists were quite taken with her. Soon, she reunited with her former mentor, Malikah, who had taught her to dance when she was a little girl. In her mid-forties now, Malikah still remained fit and full of youthful energy. She had dark skin and a thin frame, as she resembled her uncle, Old Dalan. The two women danced together every afternoon in the bazaar, and every week the crowd of onlookers would grow until merchants began complaining about blocking access to their shops.

In search of a new place to perform, they danced all around the city: by the fountain at the gates, the east end shopping district, the North End and beyond. They also ventured down to Lowtown, which had been revamped – it no longer reeked of sewer water, and was filled with new homes and shops that finally had the gil to get cleaned up. It was a popular hangout spot, especially on days when the summer's heat was most unforgiving. After a day of impromptu performances in the underground district, Penelo and Malikah found the perfect room to use as a dance studio. Tucked in a corner behind Selva's Shawarmas and Temel's Textiles, the vacant room was long and spacious, with the smoothest floor in Lowtown. With the money they saved up, they bought it.

Soon after, their street performances grew into mini parades as more dancers began to join them. Women of all ages, as well as children orphaned from the war, looking for a family, joined their dances every day. Why not, then, use this energy to form Rabanastre's first dance troupe since the death of King Raminas?

And so their numbers grew to over thirty, and Penelo began to see them as her family. Along with Malikah, she spent countless hours teaching her fellow troupe members new dance techniques in the Lowtown studio, while honing her own skills – not just of dance, but of leadership.

The Dancing Galbanas had come so far in the last five years, and now they were hired to perform for the Queen herself. Penelo wanted this performance to be their best yet, and so they had practiced every day for the last three weeks.

The sounds of the drums came to a halt, and each of the dancers ended the routine with a playful pose. They received a roaring applause from the audience, complete with cheers and whistles. Each dancer returned the love by gracefully blowing a kiss to the entire crowd.

Penelo gave her mentor a high five. "Good show! You were great!"

"As were you! I think we're just about ready for the show!" Malikah's grin was as bright and infectious as her energy. "See you for rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Of course!" Penelo nodded, and she watched as her mentor turned around and gathered the dancers for a pep talk.

The crowd dispersed, and as men, women and children left the plaza to return to their daily lives, Penelo stood there and absorbed it all in. She watched as Malikah cheerfully congratulated each of the Dancing Galbanas, their smiles outshining the sweat on their foreheads. And as they drank their water, chatted and laughed, Penelo smiled – seeing the fruits of her love and labor filled her heart with warmth and pride.

"Hey Penelo!" The most familiar voice in Ivalice called her. _Vaan is here?_ Penelo turned around to see her brother-figure approach her. _He seems awfully excited…_

"Vaan – what are you doing here?" She embraced him in greeting, then let go. "I thought you weren't coming back until tonight?"

He shrugged as a playful smirk graced his lips. "Ashe underestimated my abilities," he chuckled. "Looks like you guys are ready for the show tomorrow; that was great!"

"Thanks Vaan." Penelo smiled humbly. It was then that she noticed Vaan was not alone. A young man appeared in the corner of her eye. "And who is-"

She darted her eyes slightly just to _glance_ at the man standing next to Vaan, but she ended up staring. He felt strange, yet familiar, and in that first split second, Penelo's brain didn't know how to process what she was looking at. The ash-colored tint to his brown hair was familiar, but his height was not. A pair of uniquely arched eyebrows tapered around eyes blue as a summer's sky. A newly defined square jaw and pronounced cheekbones contrasted with a sincere smile that felt like a home she hadn't returned to in years.

"Larsa?" She guessed, and she knew.

The young man's smile grew wider. "Hello, Penelo." His voice was deeper now, but just as smooth and elegant as it always was.

Penelo gasped, her voice muffled under her hands. "Oh my goodness…"

She stepped forward and swiftly embraced him; nestling her face in his shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she saw Vaan disappearing to speak with the other dancers.

She couldn't believe Larsa was here with her now. When she sent that letter, she knew not to hope for too much, for she would be met only with disappointment. But when she could hear his breathing and feel his heartbeat against her, she was ecstatic. He was really _here._ "It's been so long – I almost didn't recognize you."

"And that is no one's fault but my own, Penelo," She heard in his voice a sorrow that stirred deep within. "Will you forgive me?"

She gently released him from her grasp. Would she forgive him? What was there to forgive?

She shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I know how busy you've been." She noticed his eyes darting about, as if searching for the truth behind her answer – as if her words were not truth enough. Perhaps if she smiled, that would reassure him.

The smile proved effective, and infectious. "I saw your performance just now; it was incredible!"

Penelo felt her heart beat faster. She wished she knew he had been watching; she would have performed better. But it was a relief to know he enjoyed it anyway. "Thank you," she said, "We've been rehearsing a lot to prepare for Lady Ashe's birthday. Of course, the final routine will be different than this one."

"I look forward to seeing it."

"So you _are _here for Lady Ashe's birthday. You got my letter, right?"

"I did – and yes, primarily. However, there are other reasons." _So vague_, Penelo thought. But, Larsa _did_ like to keep his secrets. She would have to get all the information out of him somehow.

"Well, how about you tell me all about it over lunch? There's this new place that's popped up since you last visited. There have been a _lot_ of new places, actually, but this one's my favorite."

She watched his lips curl into a soft smile, and then parted, revealing impeccably ivory teeth. "Of course," he answered, nodding once, with the most grace Penelo had ever seen anyone nod with. His bangs fell slightly with the motion, framing his left eye perfectly.

That boyish charm of his had matured into something different now – something that made her heart begin to thump with more intensity. And this time, her heart did not race for fear of war.

_Breathe,_ she reminded herself.

* * *

..

It was surreal to be with her again – and although they remained close throughout the years, there was something unfamiliar about the woman beside him.

In her letters, Penelo told Larsa about the success of her troupe, and how happy she had become since her dreams were realized. But no words she wrote could describe to him the extent of which it had changed her.

When Larsa met her all those years ago, she was scared – of the judge that would punish her, but also, of a world at war, where the destruction of everything she loved could happen at any given moment. She was timid, and hesitant – but she was also strong, and her endurance for life knew no bounds. And so, with determination, Penelo carried on, and now, as she led him to wherever her heart willed, Larsa found no trace of fear in her.

As a dancer, her posture was always excellent, but now it appeared even more so, aided by her newfound confidence. Her poise rivaled that of a queen. She held her chin high, elongating her neck, and there was no slouch to her shoulders, even in her relaxed state. The strength with which she carried herself matched well with the lightness of her steps, and the graceful sway of her hips. She was no longer the girl he met; now she was a self-assured, radiant woman – a galbana lily in full bloom.

She looked as though she owned the very ground she walked on, and yet-

When she turned her head to look at him, with excitement in her smile, and sincerity in her eyes, it felt as though she was making sure that he was just as thrilled; and if he wasn't, she would find a way to make it so. Beneath her newfound power and influence, she was still the girl who was willing to put the happiness of others above her own.

And he would always love that about her.

Penelo brought him to the North End of Rabanastre, where, Larsa noticed, quite a number of high-end shops and restaurants had emerged. They approached a series of pillared archways cut into the stone of new Dalmascan architecture.

_The Ambervale_ was a restaurant that served only Rozarrian cuisine, and was owned by the noble House Margrace. Larsa stopped to admire the wide archways that allowed natural light to enter the building. His eyes followed the sunlight to the floors of grey stone imported from Rozarria. Pristine white table cloths and walls contrasted dark wooden tables and chairs. Across the room was a bar with a white marble countertop. And behind that, a fully-stocked wooden wine rack stood tall from floor to ceiling.

Larsa stood in awe at the fact that this restaurant even _existed_. _Lord Al-Cid was a busy man_, he thought. What more of Rozarrian culture had emerged here?

Penelo noticed he stopped, and turned around, frowning. "What's wrong?" she asked, "You don't like Rozarrian food? We could go somewhere else."

Larsa blinked and shook his head. "No, no, this is fine. I am simply admiring the place."

Penelo gave him an amused smile. "Well then – let's find somewhere to sit." She reached back and took his hand without a trace of shyness, her skin smooth and warm against his.

A young waitress caught eyes with them. "Here for lunch again, Penelo? Go ahead and take whichever seat you want."

After a brief "thank you," Penelo turned to Larsa. "I normally wouldn't eat at a place this expensive so regularly, or at all. But ever since I started working for Ashe they've been feeding me for half the price. Of course, that just means I tip more."

The restaurant was pleasantly quiet compared to the booming acclamation of the town plaza. Only a few guests were seated, as this was just before the lunchtime rush. Penelo chose for them a small circle table close to the archways, and they each sat across from the other. The waitress who greeted them appeared once more, this time with a glass pitcher, pouring cold water into their goblets. Penelo immediately took her glass and tilted her head back, gulping her water audibly.

"Hard day of dance, Penelo?" The waitress teased, amused by Penelo's shameless display of summer-induced thirst. She cocked her hip to the side and tilted her head slightly, her short auburn hair shifting with the movement.

Penelo placed her empty goblet down. "Of _course_, Sadi, we're practicing for the Queen!"

Sadi giggled as she poured her another glass. "You work too hard." Then, she turned to regard Larsa with curious eyes. "And who's this?"

Penelo glanced at him before her lips pulled into a smirk. "Oh this is my friend. He's visiting all the way from Archadia; his name is _Lamont_." And when she spoke his alias, she smiled at him as if keeping his secret was her absolute favorite thing to do.

Larsa greeted the waitress with a soft, "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Sadi."

Sadi smiled politely. "It's nice to meet you, Lamont, and welcome to Dalmasca! Would you two like to place your orders now, or do you need a few minutes?"

"I'll have my usual – and one for _Lamont_, too." Penelo winked at Larsa, and he had to stifle a laugh.

Sadi took their orders and headed towards the kitchen with a spring in her step.

Larsa gladly took a sip of water, a much needed relief from the Dalmascan summer heat. When he lowered his glass, he noticed Penelo's honey-brown eyes on him, relaxed in a smile.

He didn't think it was possible, but she was even more stunning now than she was before.

"You look great, Larsa," she said.

Did he? He didn't think much about that sort of thing.

Penelo's smile fell as she leaned in to take a closer look at him. "Those dark circles under your eyes are concerning though. You haven't had much sleep lately, have you?"

He was stunned. Penelo always noticed the little things – details he could never hope to pay attention to. It was a quality he always admired about her.

He sighed, "I am afraid not. Almost every night this past week, I have had this recurring nightmare."

Penelo leaned forward, her elbows on the table, and rested her chin upon her clasped hands. "Tell me."

It was then he realized just how much he missed having someone in his life with whom he could truly confide in. While Basch knew of his nightmares, Larsa didn't wish to distract him from his duties as a Judge Magister, nor did he wish to burden him. However, it was different with Penelo. When he was with her, she had a way of making him feel that his problems were a top priority, and he was safe to let his guard down. Although she was always blunt with her honesty, she was also gentle enough not to crush his spirit. Larsa needed that balance, he realized; he needed _her._

He had never told this to anyone yet. "The day we fought against my brother, he spoke to me much of leadership. He warned me of the consequences of not having the strength to rule."

"And he does this in your dream?"

"Yes," Larsa took another sip of water. "But not once in five years has he appeared in my dreams – why now?"

Penelo shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe he represents something. Malikah says sometimes dreams try to bring our attention to something we have to fix in our lives. But of course, only the dreamer can figure out what that is."

Larsa nodded. _Something that needs to be fixed? But what?_ Was he not already aware of all the world's problems? Was that awareness not the cause of all his stress-induced head pain?

"Larsa," Penelo's stern voice pulled him out of a potentially endless spiral of thoughts, her eyes piercing like an overprotective cockatrice mother. "Has the Senate been giving you a hard time?"

He had to explain it to her. No way was she going to let him get away with not telling her more, and he knew that. "Our disagreements have become more frequent. They are relentlessly resistant to change – the Chairman, especially. And Senator Caine… I always find myself with a headache whenever I speak to him. He has no _respect_ for me, and I have no idea how to deal with that. And none of them seem to share my vision for a new Archades …"

"New Archades?" Penelo sat up.

_Oh, not again._

Larsa looked down, smiling at himself and shaking his head. "It appears I cannot contain my secrets today."

"_Please tell me_," she pleaded. With those eyes of hers, widened and beautifully curious, how could he not comply?

He took a deep breath, and spoke quietly. "I have introduced a bill that would abolish the Chop System."

Why was it that every time he introduced this idea, it was as if he had casted a stop spell? Was it truly that drastic? Penelo was speechless and wide-eyed. Her hands had covered her mouth and nose – her habitual gesture she made whenever she was shocked. He noticed _some_ things.

He could hear her inhale, finally. "Larsa, that's incredible!" At last, her shock seemed to have melted into joy, and then she was laughing. _Laughing?_ "I always hated that Chop System! Do you know how difficult it was to get into Archades? We didn't even get in legally – we had to sneak in – _and we had help!_" Her body shook, and she laughed until she snickered.

He must have looked distraught, because as soon as she caught his eye, she stopped immediately. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head in shame.

Larsa sighed. "I know how deeply flawed the system is, and I am ashamed to have waited this long to do something about it. It is _I_ who should apologize."

"Don't," Penelo shook her head. "You're challenging a system that has been in place for generations. If it were me, I would take a long time to build up the courage to do that – if I ever could. I always thought you were brave, Larsa."

Larsa felt his hand suddenly blanketed in warmth. Penelo's hand was on his, and he glanced up to see her returning his gaze with a soft smile.

Her voice was stern and tender all at once. "Hey – if those Senators doubt your abilities: they're absolutely wrong."

Her words were exactly what he needed. A smile graced his lips, and it faltered in doubt, until he allowed it to grow. He looked down, humbled. "Thank you, Penelo." She removed her hand from his, her smooth fingertips brushing against his skin in the motion.

But… this had all been about _him_, hadn't it? How could he allow himself to be so selfish?

He looked into her eyes. "What of you? How is your troupe? Vaan tells me you wish to tour across Dalmasca."

Penelo beamed, and once again Larsa found himself shaken by her beauty.

"Yes, we do!" she nodded enthusiastically. "Well, _Malikah_ is planning for our troupe to tour. She's really ambitious." The joy in her voice was hesitant, and she was nodding a bit _too_ much – something wasn't quite right. "And Madi's _super_ excited about it, Dion too, but…"

"You do not wish to go?" Larsa knew. She didn't have to say it.

Penelo's forged smile faded, her eyes lowered, and her head turned to the side. "I guess… not really," she returned her eyes to him. "Don't get me wrong – I love to dance. I love performing and teaching, and I love my troupe," she shook her head. "But I'm not sure if I can commit to a tour." She looked so _guilty._ Larsa knew that feeling well.

"Oh? Why not?"

Penelo shrugged with frustration. "I just feel like – there's something else I'm supposed to be doing? I'm not even sure what that is yet, to be honest." She reached behind her neck to grab her hair, all of which had been weaved into a single braid. She pulled the braid over her shoulder, and gently pulled at it with one hand, then the other, in a habitual manner. "I feel like I'm supposed to be doing _more_ – like this isn't enough. Is that so wrong for me to think? This was more than I could ever ask for…"

Larsa shook his head. "Not at all. Your feelings are never invalid, Penelo. There is no shame in striving for more – in Archades, for example, it is actually a _requirement,_" he chuckled. "And I believe there is no immunity to feeling lost – I share that feeling, especially now. We all have our limitations – we are, as they say, only humes."

Penelo let go of her hair and narrowed her eyes at him. "Including _you_, Mister under-slept and overworked."

Chuckling nervously, Larsa held his head in shame of his hypocrisy.

"You _do_ know there's medicine to help you sleep, right?"

"Yes!" Grinning, his head perked up. "I purchased some this morning." He opened his leather bag to retrieve the canister of tea leaves he had purchased at the bazaar, and proudly placed it on the table.

Penelo grabbed the canister and pulled off the lid, her eyes studying the contents within. "Cactoid flower," she smiled, nodding. Then, she briefly closed her eyes and inhaled the subtle fragrance. "I used to make this tea for soldiers when they returned home from the war." She closed the lid and looked at Larsa. "You must be fighting battles of your own, then."

How did she manage to put into words exactly what he was feeling?

But enough about him. "Yes – but even so, there is no reason I should be unable to help my friend. Penelo, should there be any manner in which I can help you find your way, please let me know."

She smiled softly. "Thank you, Larsa, but I think that's something I have to discover on my own."

"Of course. But I want you to know, I am here for you, even just to lend an ear."

Penelo smiled for a moment, and then gave him a stern look. "Hey. I'm here for you _too_, you know. _We all are_."

* * *

..

After lunch, they parted ways – for Penelo was a busy girl, juggling what seemed like a few different jobs, between her troupe and Ashe's court.

For the remainder of the day, Larsa busied himself with exploring all the new additions to the city. He started with the new apartments and shopping district in the North End, then continued to the completely revamped Lowtown – which was quite impressive, and a much-needed relief from the unbearable Dalmascan summer. And, he noticed, despite the sweltering heat, and bright light of the sun's rays, his head did not hurt for a single second. What _bliss._

When the sun began its descent, Larsa admired the brilliant hues of red, orange, yellow, and pink that painted the evening sky as he took a leisurely stroll towards the Royal Palace. He turned his head and gazed off into the horizon, where he could see the distant hills and mountains of the Westersand glow in shades of bronze and amber. From where he stood, it was a sea of pure, glistening gold; the desert truly had the most stunning sunsets.

He wished this beautiful day had no end. He wished he could live like this every day – with his friends, and in a relaxed state of mind. If only…

But he knew he couldn't. He had a duty and a purpose in Archades, in his country, and indirectly, all of Ivalice. On his throne in the Imperial Chamber, on his seat at the head of the Senate round tables – that was where he belonged.

As he got closer to the front steps of the Royal Palace, he saw someone standing there. It appeared Dalmasca's Queen also admired the sunset, and it returned the favor, for she looked absolutely radiant in its warm glow.

"Lord Larsa," she called out to him. "I see you have been out all day. Did you enjoy your time?" He approached her until he could see the warm light gleam on her grin.

"Yes – so much so that I must admit, I wish this day had no end."

"Well perhaps I can extend the day for you. Will you walk with me for a while? It would be a shame to miss this sunset." She gestured outward, directing Larsa's vision to a path that curved around the palace.

Larsa nodded. "That sounds excellent."

"And once we finish this path, and the sun has set, we can continue our walk in the courtyard. Shall we?"

They were a quarter way around the palace, and the sunset was transitioning from red and orange to pink and violet.

Larsa looked at Ashe. "I want to congratulate you; I have never seen Dalmasca so prosperous."

Ashe smiled humbly and nodded. "Thank you, but I cannot claim all credit to myself. I owe much of Dalmasca's success to her people. A Queen is nothing without the support of those who follow her."

"Your people are wonderful. And it cannot go on without mention that your economy is _thriving._ Today I had the pleasure of visiting the Muthru Bazaar; it must have _tripled_ in size. Penelo showed me the new restaurants in the North End, and what you have done with Lowtown is _astounding._" Larsa couldn't help but gush over his friend's progress. She was a leader worth aspiring to be like.

Larsa's grin fell. "Your country has progressed much, while I fear Archadia remains stuck in the past."

Ashe glanced at him with a wry smile. "Much of your Senate is _from_ the past."

Chuckling, Larsa shook his head in disappointment of himself. "I refuse to blame them for their age as they blame me for mine. I am no hypocrite."

"Forgive my poor sense of humor," she apologized. "Although I must say: Dalmasca's success is quite a relief."

"I can only imagine how much so." He really only _could_ imagine. He had no experience of what it was like to be on the other side of that war. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke next. "Lady Ashe – I must confess your birthday celebration is not the only reason I am out here."

Ashe hummed in understanding. "That is no surprise; A busy emperor such as yourself would not have time to spare on such frivolities."

"A celebration for a queen like you is no frivolity."

"You flatter me."

Larsa's gaze fell to the floor as he hid his guilt. "But I do apologize for my absence the last two years. I have no excuse, but I ask for your forgiveness anyway."

Ashe shook her head slowly. "No need. Larsa, you are forgiven. Now tell me, what other reason have you come all this way?"

He returned his eyes to her. "I am here to seek your advice."

Ashe raised her eyebrows in amusement. "Oh? You flew all the way out here merely to seek my advice? Surely you could have sent out a letter?"

Embarrassed at her teasing, Larsa grasped for any way to defend his pride. "There are many reasons why I am here."

Ashe sighed in defeat. "Alright. What is this advice you seek?"

"As you know of my bill," as Vaan and Penelo _also_ knew, much to his chagrin, "I am to abolish the Chop System – but I cannot do so without the support of the Senate. It is an ambitious bill; that much I understand. After all, I can imagine it would be difficult to persuade someone to relinquish the chops they have rightfully earned. But I cannot just stand by and allow a corrupt system to continue. I cannot have another Old Archades."

Ashe nodded as she contemplated his troubles. "Believe me, Larsa, I understand why you wish to rid of it so. After all, I myself had to bypass the law in order to enter the city."

"And it is unfortunate you and your party had to resort to those means, and I am sorry. 'Tis a risk I would wish on no one."

"'Tis no matter now," Ashe waved her hand in dismissal. "But Larsa, to aid you in convincing your Senators to rid of the Chop System's daily usage is a task I cannot do. After all, we have no such system here, so I am afraid I do not have the knowledge to find a solution for you." And when Larsa brought his gaze to the ground, discouraged, Ashe had this to offer, "However, in regards to opening the gates, I have an idea." Larsa perked his head up again. "It seems to me as though your Senators simply fear the unknown, as we all do. All they require is to be educated – perhaps, by someone from outside their walls."

"I agree," Larsa said, "which is one of the reasons why I drafted the bill, but they refuse to take heed of me."

Ashe's eyes narrowed in thought. "We should start smaller. I can imagine the idea of a swarm of newcomers marching into the city would intimidate _anyone_. If we introduce them to one person that could be the beginning."

"Just what are you implying?"

"I could send an Ambassador with you to Archades, perhaps to spread an interest in Dalmascan culture. They could live in the Imperial Palace – for let's say, a month's time. They will be close to your Senators, and charm their way into their hearts – like the old wildsnake charmers of Giza." Ashe chuckled, pleased by her own idea, "At least, that is how it worked here."

"Pardon?"

Ashe smiled as though she had a secret that she must not tell. "How else do you think the presence of Rozarrian culture has emerged here of late? That Al-Cid speaks with a tongue smoother than the surface of the Nebra."

Larsa cringed. He did not wish to know the extent of Al-Cid's methods of diplomacy.

She must have seen the disgust on his face, because she started laughing. "I digress – But Larsa: I do not say this in jest. If I send an ambassador, they can help you in your cause. Do not doubt the impact it could have."

He was well aware of the impact the presence of a foreign ambassador could have on his people, and it wasn't good. He could imagine a thousand different paths to the most unfortunate outcomes, but how could he say it lightly? "It is not the _impact _I doubt; it is my people. There are those in my country who still believe Dalmascans are beneath them. Your ambassador might be treated... _unfairly._"

But this did not seem to hinder the queen's persistence, as a small smirk graced her lips. "Then I shall send someone strong," she countered.

"They might get homesick," Larsa said, noting how silly it sounded, but he was desperate.

Ashe sighed, frustration seeping through her composure. "Larsa, it would help if you _believed_ this could work!"

"I am merely taking caution. I could not forgive myself should any harm come to your ambassador during their assignment to aide me."

His attempts to thwart her plan were futile, he knew, as the determination in her smile and tone was unwavering. "I appreciate your concern, Larsa, but I can assure you the person I have in mind can handle themself." Satisfied with her defense, she held her chin high as she tore her gaze from him, away from the battlefield.

Larsa didn't want to lose, and he didn't want these horrible visions of an ill-received ambassador to become a reality. "Even so," He began, but Ashe would not let him finish that thought.

"_Larsa_," she stopped, and so did he. Her easygoing smile had gone, and her arms were crossed. _Oh no._ "How can your people let go of the past if their Emperor cannot do it himself? _Give them a chance,_ and they may surprise you. If my mentality had not changed since the day you and I met those years ago, had I not let go of my lust for power and revenge, would my country be well off as it is now? How could I pass a free-trade agreement with Rozarria when I trusted _no_ Empire, no matter their name? Would any of us still _be here_, had I given in to my will for revenge and used the Sun-Cryst against Archadia?"

With that, the Queen of Dalmasca disarmed him of all words, and he had no choice but to surrender.

"We know your people must change their minds, that much is certain. But as Emperor, _you must lead by example_. That is the only way in which you can gain their respect and support." Ashe uncrossed her arms, and turned around. "The sun has appeared to have set. Walk with me to the courtyard, Larsa, and I will discuss with you the full extent of my plan."

Larsa followed her with full obedience and haste.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So uhhh it always bothered me that Penelo became a sky pirate after XII. I just can't imagine she would like that lifestyle, and that it goes against her alignment (I see her as lawful good tbh) But I also wanted to acknowledge the ending off FFXII where she says she's going to join Vaan. SO... for this fic universe, she tried sky pirating for a hot second before deciding it wasn't for her. Then she built her own path.

Thank you for reading! Leave a review if you enjoyed it! Or even if you didn't.

Thank you to Ridorana for being the best beta ever!

This chapter was named after the song "Amber" by 311


	3. Higher

**3\. Higher**

…

Larsa had forgotten how much he loved parties.

What was it about them that he loved so much? Perhaps it was the gathering of friends, family, and neighbors all in one place to celebrate a single event. Perhaps it was the smiles on their faces as they reunited with loved ones, sharing stories and jokes alike as they feasted and danced. Perhaps even, it was that warm feeling he had in his heart whenever he attended one.

It was all of that, and more so.

In the heart of Rabanastre's Palace Dining Hall, Larsa sighed in content, taking it all in. It had been converted into a celebration room this evening; a sea of rectangular wooden tables lined up in rows stretching from one end to the other. The smooth, dark wooden surfaces were adorned in red and gold patterned table runners and placemats. Larsa's eyes lit up at the vibrant array of Dalmascan cuisine: steaming plates of cockatrice meat, bowls of curry, fried and fresh vegetables, three different kinds of rice, large trays of sliced cactoid pears, and much more.

Seats were filled with Rabanastrans of all sorts - age, race, economic backgrounds - it mattered not to Ashe; it appeared she saw no reason not to invite the entire city. Seeing everyone sharing food, stories and laughter, it was clear that Ashe's intention was to bring her city together as a family.

Ashe was seated at the head of the table, her smile aglow with joy. As Basch and Larsa were her honored guests, they each sat on her left and right, respectively. Surrounding them were members of Ashe's court, as well as those who worked in the Royal Palace. Larsa could see Vaan standing across the room, holding a cockatrice leg in his hand as he joyfully spoke to his friend Tomaj.

Suddenly, Larsa saw a bottle of wine to his left. Ashe nodded at the young waiter who held it out to him.

"Larsa," Ashe called to him over the cheerful tune of reed flutes chiming in the background. "You are of age now; you must try the Bhujerban Madhu. It was sent to me by my Uncle; he says this is the finest wine in all of Ivalice."

Larsa had no interest in drinking. But Ashe was beaming with hope, and it _was_ her birthday…perhaps there was no harm in trying. It would be rude otherwise to refuse.

Larsa reluctantly held the golden goblet out to the waiter and watched as he poured it half-way. When the Madhu first touched his tongue, it was tart and fruitful; but as it lingered, it became sweet, with a hint of cinnamon, and it went smooth down his throat. He found himself taking another sip, and then another, and heard a joyful chuckle from Ashe.

"Amazing, isn't it?" she said.

"_Indeed._" It was Basch who praised the wine, as he held up his own glass to Ashe. "To your Uncle: for making a wine more delicious than we deserve!" They clinked their goblets in cheers, and drank what little of the Madhu remained in them.

Larsa placed his goblet down immediately. He didn't wish to end up red-cheeked like Basch, despite the temptation of the Madhu's taste. "The Marquis made this himself?"

"Yes," Ashe nodded and placed her glass down. "A hobby of his as it were; it is his true passion." Her smile seemed a little wry yet with no shortage of fondness as she reminisced about her dear Uncle's penchant for spirits and the tales it had caused over the years.

What seemed like half an hour had passed, and after most of the guests had finished their dinners, Ashe stood, and Basch helped her bring the room to silence.

With Madhu-induced rosy cheeks, she smiled. "Thank you all for joining me to celebrate my birthday this evening," Her voice was strong and projected towards the back of the room. "I hope you all have enjoyed your dinner. In just a few minutes, we invite you to watch the Dancing Galbanas perform in the plaza. As soon as you are finished with your meals, if you would like: please join me outside to enjoy their performance."

Larsa quickly drank the last of his wine and got up to join her. If there were butterflies in his stomach, he wrote it off as the Madhu, and nothing more.

* * *

...

While the night failed to cool the desert summer air to the extent he had hoped, it was still much more tolerable than the day.

The town plaza was aglow with the light of flamed torches and the full moon in the night sky. In the center, the dancers stood in offset rows, each with their right knee bent. The freshly-cut galbana lilies placed in their hair did not budge even as their heads hung low, their gazes to the ground. They wore cropped tops that displayed their slender tanned bellies, along with long, billowing skirts of deep crimson, and jewelry that added gilded accents to their garb.

Larsa followed Ashe and her court towards the steps to the side of the plaza, and caught sight of Penelo. It was always easy to find her in a crowd, even now, and not just because she was standing in the front row. Ever since the moment he first saw her in Bhujerba all those years ago, he was drawn to her. Her striking beauty was one thing – those round, honey-brown eyes and charming smile could lure in anyone's attention – but there was something else about her. Behind those eyes was the strength of a survivor, and through that smile was the compassion of someone who could never hold an ounce of hatred in her soul.

He couldn't imagine anyone else to call his best friend.

Penelo must have heard their arrival, because she brought her head up and looked directly into Larsa's eyes. She smiled nervously, and gave him a small wave, one which he returned with no small amount of enthusiasm.

With Ashe and her court, Larsa took his seat and waited with brimming anticipation while the remainder of the guests made their way to the plaza. If her performance the other day was any evidence to her troupe's talent, Larsa could not wait to see what they had in store this evening.

"'Scuse me, sorry, 'scuse me, oops! 'Scuse-Thanks!" Larsa heard a familiar voice from the depths of the crowd. He felt, more than heard, someone roughly take their seat next to him.

Vaan sighed in relief. "Jeesh. I thought I'd never get through that crowd!" He relaxed easy into his chair, and smiled at the emperor. "Hey Larsa, that dinner was amazing wasn't it? Had to bring some of it with me, you know?" Vaan winked as he waved the star fruit in his hand before bringing it to his mouth to take a bite.

Larsa couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his friend overjoyed by food.

"So," Vaan said after a moment, smacking gracelessly, "you excited to see Pen?" The edge to his voice was a bit teasing.

The wine gave Larsa's blush away, but he hoped Vaan wrote it off as firelight and nothing more. Something about Vaan's tone made him feel twelve again. Instead of returning Vaan's gaze, he watched the musicians from inside the Royal Palace arriving to join the band already in position behind the dancers. "Penelo told me she has something special planned for tonight," he dodged Vaan's hint with the stumbling grace of a half-inebriated politician, as he eyed a vast array of drums being wheeled behind the dancer's line; while some were simply shaped like large circles, others were shaped like goblets, and they all had colorful patterns painted onto them. It reminded him briefly of his visit to Jahara years ago.

Vaan's grin twisted at one corner and he nudged Larsa playfully, as though he were a friend from childhood and not, in fact, the emperor of Archadia. "Pen's always got somethin' special planned. Keep an eye on her and you'll see. But that shouldn't be a problem, huh?"

Larsa cleared his throat most dignifiedly and ignored when it cracked.

The last few groups arrived and took their seats, and the crowd settled into silence.

A single drum beat initiated the dance.

It was low in pitch, and resonated throughout the plaza, sending a wave through Larsa's heart, and the silence that followed sent a chill down his spine.

High-pitched, melodic plucking of sitar strings filled the air, bringing the Dancing Galbanas to life. Larsa watched Penelo raise her head and arms simultaneously, slowly, until her gaze and arms were reaching towards the night sky. The bangles on her wrists reflected gold light as she smoothly twirled her graceful hands. The strings' sensual hums and erratic rhythm mixed with the slow, fluid motions of the dancers' hands as they flowed down in wave-like movements until they reached chest-level.

With Vaan staring into the performance as well, Larsa felt no shame in focusing in on Penelo, whose hands parted until they were outstretched on each side of her swaying hips. From her shoulders, to the tips of her fingers, Penelo sent a wave of movement through her arms, alternating between right and left, until they resembled wildsnakes. While maintaining the flow of her arms, she held one leg out in front of her, and bent her knees further, sliding her back down an invisible wall, her body a perfect discipline of her art.

The melody's volume grew as the sitar player plucked the strings with more passion and intensity. The dancers' bodies undulated as they slowly lifted themselves until they stood tall once more. All at once, they moved in impeccable unison – a testament to the long hours of rehearsal they put into the routine. Each of them smiled at the crowd, holding their heads high with poise and grace.

The pace of the rhythm quickened, and they followed suit. The Dancing Galbanas sashayed their hips, alternating between right and left, as though each hip were drawing a small circle in the air. It was oddly hypnotic and unabashedly exotic; it was nothing like Archades, and Larsa could not look away. Their bodies undulated as they smoothly travelled to their left, their elevation shifting from high to low as they switched from standing on the balls of their feet to flat on the ground. They stopped and spun towards their right, swift and smooth, returning to the center of the stage.

The recognizable _doums_ and _teks_ of the goblet drums joined in, intertwining with the strings to form a harmony of sounds. More strings emerged, challenging the powerful drums. The soft, high-pitched whistle of the reed flutes chimed in, adding a more playful nature to the tune.

It was amazing to see such a slow, mysterious dance turn into a highly-intense, energized show; it bloomed like a Galbana under the sun. With each beat of the drums, the dancers would do a quick snap with different parts of their bodies: the hips, the ribcage, the shoulders and head. Not a single part of them was left unused.

The dancers stood on the balls of their feet, snapping their hips, _one-two,_ _one-two, _causing the gold coins of their hip sashes to jingle. They travelled to the side so smoothly it looked as though they were gliding through the air. Still snapping their hips to the rhythm, they stopped travelling to do a smooth spin, reaching one arm out to the audience, who clapped and cheered.

Each and every one of the Dancing Galbanas was hypnotizing, but Larsa found he was unable to take his eyes off Penelo. Soon he found that his gaze on her was returned, as he spotted her eyes looking his way between spins. He thought at first - perhaps he was imagining it, his eyes confused by the shadows and the flickering firelight and the Madhu; however, when the spins stopped, and her eyes still lingered, he could not find a further excuse. It was real. She would smile at the crowd, then check on her troupe, then focus on herself and the routine. But her eyes, half-lidded and decorated with shimmering gold makeup, always returned to him, and every time they did, Larsa could not blame the warm temperature on desert air alone.

The pace of the drums increased gradually, as did the snapping of the dancers' hips until they were doing a full shimmy. The coins on their hip sashes jingled with more intensity, becoming instruments themselves. The dancers began to sway their hips side-to-side, and then into circles, all while maintaining the rhythm of their shimmy – an impressive feat, Larsa admitted.

Everything about this was impressive to him – not only the skill and grace of the dancers, but the energy they elicited from the crowd as well, and the fact that it was all planned and followed through. They each had a common vision and worked together to make it into a reality.

It was more than impressive to him; it was _inspiring_.

Towards the end of the shimmy, the dancers each pulled a shimmering gold veil out from under their hip sashes and threw them over their heads from behind. The cloth must have been made from the finest silk, as they floated in the air long after they were tossed. The dancers swiftly returned their veils to their backs, holding them with one hand on each end. Larsa watched Penelo spin, the silk following her, and for a moment it looked as though a wave of the Sandsea shimmered right before his eyes.

And then, all instruments faded to silence, except for the drums. The dancers dedicated this section of the routine to isolations. To the beat of the drums, the dancers isolated movements in their hips, popping them to their left, their front, right and back. Then they focused on isolating their rib cages, shoulders, and head. Larsa could have sworn he even saw their bellies vibrate, powered by their diaphragms.

That last move must have been a crowd favorite, because the audience erupted in hoots and hollers. Some people even whistled, including Vaan, and Larsa smiled in amusement as the sound rang in his ears.

The other musicians slowly brought their instruments back into the song, one-by-one. The pace of the song and dance quickened, and the music grew louder than ever, shaking the air of the plaza. After a sequence of hip snaps, snake arms, and spins, the dancers, on the balls of their feet, glided closer towards each other and the center of the stage, their bodies undulating with each step. They lined up into three rows, and as they did a sequence of swift, circular hip movements, they slowly lifted their hands to the sky. With one last _tek_ from the drums, the dancers each maneuvered themselves into their final pose. From his seat in the center of the audience, Larsa could see that the individual poses, when viewed as a collective whole, formed the pointed petals of a galbana lily.

And amidst it all, when Penelo looked up again, one last time, it was his gaze she caught and did not release.

Stunned, Larsa was unaware of his surroundings until a few seconds after the audience erupted into a thunderous applause. When he realized he was the only person still sitting, he bolted out of his seat and joined them.

"So, how was that?" Vaan asked, nudging Larsa over the din of the applause. "Can't catch a show like this in Archades, huh."

But if Larsa had words to say, he could not find them. All he could do was clap.

* * *

...

_Finally_, Penelo could relax.

The dance had ended, and the audience seemed to love it; especially Ashe, who thanked her with an enthusiastic hug.

Penelo congratulated each of her troupe members, until she caught sight of her mentor once again. Malikah beamed at her as they embraced.

"We did it!" Penelo exclaimed, returning a high five Malikah offered. "That was a great show!"

Malikah's smile was warm and her eyes were sincere; she placed her hands on Penelo's shoulders. "Penelo, we couldn't have done this without you. The Dancing Galbanas wouldn't exist today if it weren't for your passion and hard work. Thank you for helping me bring dance back to Rabanastre."

Love swelled in Penelo's heart. "Thank you, Malikah," she said, and she again embraced her mentor and dear friend.

While the dancers were relieved for the night, the musicians continued to provide the party guests a positive, warm ambiance with cheerful, upbeat tunes. The crowd dispersed already, and everyone was enjoying the party throughout the plaza. Drinks were being served from the bar that was set up in the corner by a fountain and the echo of their performance lived on in the joy of the guests. In the center of the plaza, Penelo could see some of her troupe members had decided to dance freestyle, joyfully beckoning others to join them.

She was tempted to join them, but she was _parched_.

Penelo snaked her way through the crowd, receiving a few congratulations along the way that she nearly had to pry herself away from to get a drink. The bartender handed her a glass of water, and Penelo gratefully downed it in one go. She was about to return to the dance floor, but then something caught her eye -

She stopped in her tracks to see Larsa standing by himself, off to the side. Amidst all the life, he looked starkly still as he sipped his own glass and watched the dancing in the distance.

Penelo pursed her lips. It was a shame to see him without company.

She approached him, and even as she got closer, it appeared he was distracted - she followed his gaze to watch Vaan's antics on the dance floor, and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Having fun?" Penelo asked when she reached him; she inferred from his wide eyes and lifted brows that she had startled him.

He hesitated for a moment; had he not heard her question?

"Y-yes," he smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me. I find myself still stunned by your performance."

He was so sweet; he always had been. Penelo couldn't help but smile and waved off the praise.

"Thank you, Larsa, but I can't take all the credit. None of this would be possible without my troupe."

Larsa drank the remainder of his water, the apple of his throat bobbing as he did. He looked into her eyes once more. "You must be quite proud of them."

She _absolutely_ was.

"Yeah," she nodded, an understatement: her heart overflowed with pride just thinking of her students, but she was too winded to find the words. "I am."

A busboy plucked Larsa's empty glass from his hands without so much as a word, and with nothing left to fidget with, Larsa clasped his hands at his sides. Penelo took note of that quickly, and thought - no, it simply wouldn't do to have the emperor of Archadia spend his time in Rabanastre as a wallflower. Penelo had an idea.

"Larsa, would you like to dance with me?" She hoped flashing a grin would be enough to convince him. Light _teks_ from the goblet drums joined in, accompanied by occasional _doums_. Lastly, a high-pitched, passionate string melody joined in. Those already on the dance floor started pairing up, circling slowly in synchronicity.

His eyes were wide for a second, and then they relaxed. "Of course," he said, nodding with grace.

Larsa held his right elbow out, signaling her to take his arm. Penelo smiled at the familiar gesture, and she was overwhelmed with nostalgia; it brought her back to a night years ago, to the first time they danced together under the night sky in Jahara, where he taught her the basic steps of the Archadian Waltz amidst the Garif before their trip to Bur Omisace. It was one of her memories with him she cherished most.

Penelo gladly took his arm and led him to a clearing in the plaza center.

"It's been three years since you last waltzed with me here, so don't make fun of me if I mess it up," Penelo warned, prompting Larsa to laugh.

"I wouldn't dare; you have my word."

Though Vaan's word never carried too much weight - he was a pirate now, after all, and before that just a thief - Penelo knew Larsa meant nothing but the truth. She closed the gap between them, and placed her left hand on his shoulder. From there, it was seamless, automatic, programmed in Larsa's muscle-memory since childhood, no doubt; he gently took hold of her waist with his right hand, and their free hands joined.

Surprisingly, the Archadian steps flowed smoothly to the Dalmascan melody as they glided in circles on the dancefloor. The music began to pick up in pace, as did their steps, and the pair danced so seamlessly, Penelo felt like there was no floor beneath them, as though they floated on the skies of Bhujerba. Odd, it was, for a dance so rooted in rigidity to feel so...fluid, so natural. It startled her only for a moment, a pleasant sort of surprise that kept her laughing and Larsa smiling down at her. He released Penelo's waist and swiftly spun her once, and the torchlights blurred around her until they became long ribbons of gold.

The world settled around her, and Larsa looked...Larsa looked _ecstatic, _the charm clearly written on his face aglow with joy. "You remember well!" he complimented, and Penelo didn't know why, but it made her blush.

Penelo let out a chuckle. "It's been so long, I was afraid I had forgotten."

ut then that smile that lit up Larsa's face faded, suddenly. "I'm sorry it has been so long," he said for what must have been the umpteenth time since she saw him the other day. "I really did miss you."

_I really did miss you._

Though she did not wish for Larsa's spirit to dampen, it was a tremendous relief to hear those words. Penelo began to think that he was forgetting her over the years of maneuvering through the intricate maze of Archadian government. She wouldn't blame him if he had.

But he hadn't. Through it all, Larsa remembered her, and that spoke louder than any apology he felt the need to make.

"I've missed you too. But Larsa, don't beat yourself up about it. You're here _now_, and we're all really happy you are." As Penelo uttered those last words, the drums faded almost into silence, and the strings took the lead. The melody slowed, and each note was elongated, reverberating with passion. Their steps slowed to match the music.

She looked into his eyes, blue like the skies of Archadia. "Larsa," she began a bit more seriously - if this was to be a night of admissions, than she may as well make hers; who knew when she would see him again after this? "Hearing your plans for Archadia's future, I'm so proud of the man you've become. I still consider you my best friend, you know that right?"

Even if he didn't feel the same way, even if she was just an old friend he used to see once a year, doomed to fade from his memory, she wanted him to know how much he meant to her. He was the first reason for her to open her heart to the Archadian Empire, and the first glimmer of hope she had for a future without war. He was always so kind and understanding, listening to her troubles with no judgement in his heart.

How could she ever put that into words that would sound as graceful as he made his own out to be?

Larsa's lips curved into a smile again, and he spun her once more. "And I consider you mine! I never stopped."

"Really?" She was so relieved she could hardly believe it. "I was worried you were going to forget me," she admitted so softly it was almost a mumble in her twirl; as soon as it left her lips, she almost wished she hadn't said it. There was no reason to weigh Larsa with guilt that was not his to bear.

His eyebrows furrowed in worry. "_Forget you?"_ he echoed, incredulous at the notion_._ "I could never…" he shook his head, his eyes never leaving her. The sincerity of it washed away any doubt Penelo had festering within her these past years, and she felt lighter in his arms.

All she could do was smile. "I'm glad we're still on the same page, then."

Larsa nodded before adding, "Not only could I never forget you, Penelo," he began - a bit shyly, if anything, "But I believe there is an opportunity that has presented itself in which _many_people could remember you for."

_What is he talking about?_

"What is it?" she asked, "What opportunity?"

At her question, a shadow cast over his eyes. "Penelo," he began quietly, "there is something I must tell you."

"What's wrong?"

His eyes looked… she didn't know how they looked. Scared, perhaps, or cautious, or neither at all - something unreadable that the dancer could not place. "I should hope nothing. I pray that what I bring to you is good news."

_What?_ Penelo tilted her head, impatience and curiosity gnawing at her usual grace. "Just tell me, Larsa."

She saw his chest rise and fall in what must have been a deep inhale to calm his nerves. _Just out with it already_.

"Queen Ashe wishes to appoint you to the position of Ambassador, for a temporary assignment in Archadia. And should this go well, should you agree, she wishes for you to serve as a permanent member on the Council of Ivalice, as a representative of Dalmasca."

She couldn't _believe_ what he just said.

Ambassador of Dalmasca? What? _Her?_ What on Ivalice was going on?

"What?" It was all she could muster out of her thoughts, and she began to lose the initial grace in her steps. She must have resembled Vaan, fish-mouthed and wide-eyed, gaping at the Archadian as she tried not to trip over her own feet. But Larsa only continued.

"She wishes for you to begin immediately, should you decide to take the job."

Penelo opened her mouth, because she _should_ have been saying something, but no words came to her. Yes, she was certainly mirroring Vaan in this lack of grace.

Larsa looked at her with understanding. "I apologize for bringing this news to you so suddenly," he began, but Penelo stopped him. She had to stop _everything: _his words, the dance, and the world that spun far too quickly around her. Her steps came to a halt, and she withdrew her hands from the emperor.

Suddenly, Penelo's words returned to her in a burst of confusion.

"But - why _me?_ I'm not _qualified_ for this!" She heard her own voice rise, and she saw a few heads turn her way.

"Of course you are," Larsa returned - purposely quieter.

"No I'm not," she insisted, shaking her head furiously at the notion of such a responsibility, "I'm just a dancer, and I barely just joined Lady Ashe's court. I'm - I'm just a glorified secretary, really."

But Larsa was having none of it. He took her hand and gently pulled her away from the crowded dancefloor.

He looked at her with sincerity in his eyes as he held her hands. "Lady Ashe sees potential in you as I do. Why else would she assign you to her court?"

"I - I don't know…" she stammered softly, barely audible in the sounds of celebration.

"Penelo," Larsa started, his eyes scanning the crowd around them. "What you have done here with your troupe examples great leadership abilities." He returned his gaze to her. "And your friendship with me…" he paused to smile, "was only made possible because you have a gift for diplomacy – more so than your own Queen." A second passed before he noticed the implications of his last words, and fear flashed in his eyes. "But do not tell her I said that; she might declare war over it."

Penelo let out a nervous laugh, a much needed release of the air she held tightly in her lungs. She mulled it over for a moment as she watched the celebration around her. "Do you really think I can do this?"

Larsa nodded. "I do." And she could hear in his voice that he meant it.

Yet still, she couldn't seem to believe it. "Larsa, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it really isn't the same. It's not enough."

"_Yes it is,"_ Larsa insisted. "The details may differ, but at the core it is the same. You have a gift with people, Penelo. You understand them. You know what they need to learn, and you know what they need to _thrive._ And most importantly: you care for them deeply, and that is a necessity that is hardly met in politics. You have the potential to impact the lives of _all_ Dalmascans for the better if you are to take this opportunity."

Once more Penelo was at a loss for words, her thoughts drifting to the world around her. She watched as Malikah danced joyfully with Vaan and Tomaj, while her students managed to get every last wallflower to join them on the dancefloor. She wanted nothing more than to see their continued happiness and prosperity; if she could do something to influence that, it would mean the world to her. But there was no way she was ready to take on anything this important...

He _saw_ the doubt in her face, Penelo knew, because he _still_ wasn't quitting. "If it is the complexity of the world of government and politics that cautions you, please, fear it not. I will teach you everything I know if I must, and once I have done that, we can learn together, for there is still much for me to learn as well."

She looked up into his eyes. They looked scared, still, which wasn't helping his cause for reassuring her. "But how? You're going back to Archadia..."

His mouth was agape when his eyes darted to the side. _What now__, _she almost groaned. This was all too much right now! "There is a small detail I have failed to mention," he said nervously. "Ashe has requested that you live in the Imperial Palace for a month's time, until the Council meetings have concluded. It would be convenient, as this year's council will be held in Archades."

"Live... in Archades?" Penelo gasped. Leave behind Rabanastre? Her life, her friends, her art… for Archades?

Larsa exhaled. "Yes. Penelo, I do not expect you to come to a decision now. Ashe has requested that you speak with her on it after the party, and you can think on it overnight. Should you decide to take the job, tomorrow I will be waiting in the Aerodrome until midday. Meet me there, and we shall go together."

Penelo opened her mouth to say _something_ – to protest, to further insist that he must be looking for a different Penelo, and she would offer to help him find her. So why wasn't she telling him 'no'? Why didn't she just end it all here, instead of leaving it open like her stunned mouth? Was she too afraid to let her friend down? But she was _always_ honest with him, so why stop now?

Did she...did she _want_ this? Did a small part of her actually believe she could do this?

_Boom!_ A thunderous noise rumbled through the air, and everyone around them stopped dancing.

Penelo immediately followed the source of the sound in the sky, and she saw glittering explosions of brilliant red and gold lights bloom into the shape of desert flowers. She had forgotten there were fireworks planned for the celebration.

She turned to look at Larsa, who gazed in awe at the display of magic-induced lights before him, his smile illuminated by their red glow. He had that look of wonder in his eyes, like anything was possible.

Penelo hoped that look would never go away.

* * *

...

The echoes of traveler's voices, footsteps and luggage-dragging filled the air, but Larsa paid them no mind, not when his heart was pounding and his thoughts were racing like a skystone port on overdrive.

He stood, leaning against the railing as he looked out the window across the terminal, focusing on everything and nothing in particular; the world around him little more than background noise and imagery. The sun was shining high in the sky; midday was swiftly approaching…

Time, Larsa realized, was running thin.

Basch's deep voice, muffled from his Judge's helmet, pulled Larsa's gaze away from the brilliantly clear desert skies. "My Lord," he warned, and Larsa turned his head to face him, "I advise we depart shortly if you wish to arrive before nightfall."

"She will be here," he said, and even though he wasn't, he added, "I am sure of it." He kept his voice calm, despite his increased heart rate.

He directed his gaze downward so that all he could see was the floor, his tapping foot, crossed arms, and his chest. He became increasingly aware of how shallow his breathing had become. Perhaps he could try to slow it down…

But there was no _time_ for that. Not when his proposal was an hourglass nearly emptied of every granule, not when Archades awaited him again, not when the Chop System itself was at stake…

And not when Penelo could be the one to make his vision a reality.

The realization hit him swiftly:

_She will not show._

Of course not; why would she? _No one_as virtuous as her would taint themselves in the twisted world of Archadian politics _willingly_. Penelo was no fool; even Balthier - Doctor Cid's son, born and bred into its snare - high-tailed it out of there as soon as he could take the helm of his own ship. Larsa was the only fool here to think for a second that she would show; Penelo would never do this. The war may be over, but he was sure her memories of it remained. He would not blame her if she wanted nothing to do with this…

_Look out the window._

Larsa swiftly lifted his head back up, his bangs falling on his face in the motion. The sun was higher in the sky now – how much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? Neither at all? He let the doubt fester into mortification; not only had he disrespected Penelo in assuming she would want to come, he disrespected her in insisting it would be the right thing to do.

What did he know of her?

Before last night he hadn't seen Penelo in years. And yet he waltzed – quite literally – back into her life and expected her to give up everything for his agenda?

_She is not coming._

She really wasn't, was she? Larsa had hoped she would at least be here to bid them farewell, but no; she did not owe him that. But she wasn't, and now he was sorry he ever put such a heavy decision on her shoulders. Was he a terrible friend? Did she no longer wish to see or speak to him? Will she ever forgive him?

_She will never forgive you, or your country. Now you must move on._

He felt a firm, yet gentle touch on his right shoulder that shook him from his dwelling.

"My Lord – it is time." He could _feel_ the pity in Basch's voice, and he felt disgusted with himself for hoping too much.

Larsa finally took a deep breath. Reluctantly, he lifted his weight off from the railing. "Alright – let us go."

They turned right to begin heading towards their gate.

Larsa was overhearing a man's complaint about a delayed flight to Bhujerba when he heard a shrill, panicked voice resonate throughout the Aerodrome.

"Waaaaaaaaaaait!"

Larsa and Basch immediately stopped and turned their heads towards the voice that was quickly approaching them.

Larsa saw blonde, windswept bangs that met with wide eyes the color of sand, and the world stood still. Long braids bounced against bare shoulders, and his heart overflowed with emotion. He heard her voice once more and he felt his lips widen into a full grin.

_Penelo._

She was frantically running towards them, as quickly as she could while carrying two large luggage bags. She was flustered from running and worrying, and small strands of her hair had clung to the sweat on her forehead. Despite the dishevelled state of her appearance, she was the most beautiful sight Larsa had ever laid his eyes upon.

It was as though all the world's burdens had been lifted off his shoulders. The sight of her amidst so much doubt was enough to make him want to break down and cry with joy, but he didn't wish for her to see him in such a shameless state. He took a deep breath.

Penelo was directly in front of him now, and he watched her place her baggage down with a heavy _thump_. Her knees were bent and she leaned forward, resting her hands on her thighs as she breathed heavily. "I'm so sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed, and inhaled again, "I had to say goodbye to my troupe, and those girls love to talk!"

What was there to forgive? He should be asking for _her_ pardon, if anything.

"'Tis alright. But Penelo, are you absolutely _sure_ you wish to do this?" He couldn't let her go - despite how much he wanted it more than anything - without a warning.

She stood up and looked him in the eyes. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be," she declared with confidence, but it was short-lived. All at once, it fell in a nervous laugh, self-deprecating and unabashedly honest. "But Larsa, I would be lying if I said I wasn't absolutely terrified."

Larsa gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was warm from the last touches of Dalmascan sun. "Then I am grateful that you do not lie, because I am terrified as well. But seeing you here – simply knowing that I will not go through this task alone – makes a difference. Thank you, Penelo. Thank you for being here."

"I thank you as well," Basch added, "Archadia awaits Dalmasca's newest Ambassador with open arms."

"Thank you…" Penelo's voice was soft with humility.

"Well," Larsa said, "It is time we ought to board our airship." He swiftly grabbed Penelo's baggage off the floor.

"Oh Larsa, you don't have to do that; I can carry my own bags," Penelo protested.

"I know you can," he said, and he felt himself smirk just before he turned around and began to walk towards the gate.

"Larsa, really, give them back. I'm fine with carrying them," she called out as she followed him.

But he had no plans of returning the luggage to her – not yet. He began to walk faster.

"_Larsa_!"

He widened his strides, and he let out a chuckle, looking back to Penelo just so she could see how much fun he was having.

Her worried expression transformed into a slightly irritated one, and yet she remained as beautiful as ever.

Larsa looked ahead once more, and his stride turned into a full _dash_.

"_LARSA_!"

He could hear from her echoed footsteps on the tile floors that she began to run after him, but she was not catching up.

"Why do you have to be such a fast runner!?"

This was too much fun; he could no longer hold his polite pretense.

A fit of boisterous laughter had burst from his lungs, and it echoed throughout the terminal.

* * *

...

Penelo sat still on a leather passenger seat aboard _The Sylph._

Larsa's private airship was silver and white, its shape was pointed and elegant; Penelo would never tell Balthier or Vaan, but it was the most beautiful airship she had the privilege to lay her eyes on. It flew smoothly through the air with grace, and its flight was so steady that if it weren't for the clouds outside the window, Penelo wouldn't have known she was on an airship at all.

But even with the stillness of the ride, Penelo felt her stomach turn this way and that.

She accepted her nervousness fully, and tried to breathe her way through it. Perhaps if she distracted herself, she would feel better. She turned to her right and scooted closer to the window. In between thin, summer clouds, she looked upon vast fields of yellow-green grass, with ancient ruins scattered about. As she gazed into the faraway grassland of the Tchita Uplands, her mind wandered to the night before...

...

She had met with Ashe in one of the drawing rooms of the Royal Palace.

It was dark, with only the dim, amber glow of magicite lights to illuminate the area. Ashe had been lounging on a red and gold loveseat nursing a goblet of wine when Penelo asked her about what had transpired earlier that evening.

"So I see Larsa has already told you; that was thoughtful of him. I wanted to tell you myself, but he insisted I enjoy my own party." Ashe smiled as she poured a new glass of Bhujerban Madhu. She stood and offered it to Penelo.

Penelo looked down and saw her doubtful expression reflected in the red wine. "But, why me? I don't understand; there are plenty of people in your court who are more qualified."

Ashe turned around and sauntered back to the tea table and grabbed her own glass, taking her last sip of Madhu. "The people of my council are of the same families as those in my father's court. While they may have experience in governing, they have only seen Rabanastre from above ground." She placed the glass down and turned to face Penelo with an opportunistic smile. "You offer a new perspective – one that can far better represent our people than anyone else in my court."

Were Larsa and Ashe _both _out of their minds? _How much wine did they drink during that dinner?_

"I want you to think on it. But Penelo…" Ashe approached her, and placed her warm hands on her shoulders. "I trust you, and I believe in your abilities. Please consider this."

"Of course I will, Your Grace."

Ashe shook her head and let go of Penelo. "Oh, none of that now!" she protested, and she smiled at her with Madhu-flushed cheeks. "After all we've been through; you are a sister to me. Call me Ashe, always, Penelo."

"Right – Ashe." She laughed at the strangeness of it, still new to her despite the years of peace. "I'll have to get used to this."

Ashe's smile had gone now, and she looked Penelo in the eyes. "Penelo, should you decide to go, I require from you but a single task during your stay."

Did she mean _besides_ helping Larsa pass his bill? However she was supposed to do that…

"Of course," Penelo agreed, "What is it?"

"I need you to report to me your experience living in Archades. Send me one letter each week of how you feel and how you are personally treated there. If Larsa plans to open the gates of Archades to all, I need to know if my people are welcome there. Should you see any sign of ill intent, you are to report it to me immediately."

Penelo wasn't so sure about this, yet she found herself nodding obediently.

"Yes, your – Yes, Ashe," she stammered.

...

Penelo blinked, returning to the present.

She looked to her left to see Larsa sitting on the passenger seat across the aisle from her. He sat hunched over, with his chin in his hands, most likely in deep thought. His eyes were focused at the ground, but his mind was elsewhere. Penelo could have sworn she didn't see him take a single breath.

"Hey, don't overwork yourself before we even get there."

She knew she startled him when his face twisted into surprise, swiftly blinking several times. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them to gaze into nothing once more.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"I wonder how I will face the Senate Leaders after leaving them to fend for themselves the last three days," he looked to her with worried eyes too old for a young man of his years. "I fear they either hate me for it, or they took this as an opportunity to take over." He laughed miserably at the idea.

"I don't think they would do either," Penelo reassured. "I'm sure they understand, and I don't think they would do anything so drastic."

"I should _hope_ not."

"You say they need to have more faith in you, and that's _true_; but remember that you need to have faith in them, too."

She lost him once more to the sea of thoughts that was his mind.

A powerful voice joined the conversation. "You should listen to Ambassador Penelo; she has a wise head on her shoulders." Basch entered the cabin with helmet removed, and stood in the aisle between Penelo and Larsa. "We will be landing shortly. I urge that you both keep your seatbelts fastened."

After Basch took his seat behind Larsa and fastened his seatbelt as instructed, _The Sylph_ could finally prepare to land.

Penelo could feel the airship lower as it began its descent, and when it tilted slightly, she looked out the window to her right. She could see it now, cresting upon the horizon: the Imperial City of Archades. It was grand and impressive in scale, and the building's shades of bronze and amber paired well with the lush green of summer-ripened foliage. She immediately noticed that the city had expanded since her last visit five years ago. A new series of buildings that formed the shape of a crescent moon hugged the south end of the city.

This must have been the newest addition: a completely reconstructed Old Archades.

She remembered everything she saw when she last walked through the broken-down streets of the old capital: the walls that were eroding, the weeds that grew between the stones under her feet, and the weary-eyed faces of the people whose dreams were crushed by the city. She remembered the children, with no home to call their own, and how they reminded her of Kytes, Vaan and Reks, and even herself, growing up on the streets of Rabanastre. As she looked upon the renovated buildings, with their fresh coats of paint, she wondered if the dreams of the people she met there had received a similar treatment.

Under Larsa's rule, she had utmost faith that they had.

Her biggest question now, as they anchored in the grand private dock of the Archadian palace...was what did she have to do with any of this? What were _her_ dreams?

Penelo supposed she'd come to learn it, all in due time.

...

* * *

**Author's Note:** This was quite a chapter! I remember writing the first draft for it during NaNoWriMo two years ago, in a hospital waiting room (actually all over the hospital). I remember sitting there struggling to describe how the song "Rain" by Faran Ensemble sounded for the dance scene between Larsa and Penelo.

The Aerodrome scene... I was working at the airport when the song "Strangers In the Night" by Wayne Newton started playing... and I had this image of Penelo running to Larsa in slow-motion, super cheesy I know. And when he saw her he was so relieved and full of love for her. I couldn't resist adding it to the story.

Chapter is named after "Higher" by Creed

Thank you always to Ridorana for beta-reading!

...

And thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	4. Into the Ocean, Part 1

**4\. Into the Ocean, Part 1**

…

It wasn't until Penelo saw the Imperial Palace that reality began to sink in.

Ashe had appointed her Ambassador of Dalmasca. _Ambassador. _In her short life, Penelo had seen many unbelievable things: the devastation of war, the power of magic, technology, and espers, as well as the formation of peace between two warring empires. But this… this was never something Penelo would have expected.

What was Ashe _thinking? _Penelo couldn't possibly live up to whatever expectations Ashe had for her.

_The Sylph_ landed on a private dock just below the palace summit. Penelo followed Larsa down the airship's ramp, slightly exasperated that he _still_ insisted on carrying her luggage.

As they approached the entryway, Penelo craned her neck to gaze upon the towering dual spires of the palace, and anxiety rattled her nerves. _What am I doing here? This isn't my world; I don't belong here._

The front doors opened with a smooth hiss, revealing a long corridor with high ceilings like those in _the Leviathan_, and as dimly lit as _the Bahamut. _Those weren't her _fondest_ memories, and they certainly didn't help soothe the agitated butterflies in her stomach.

Larsa turned to regard the Judge Magister beside him. "Gabranth," he said, the sound of Basch's alias strange on his tongue after using the man's true name so casually minutes before. "You are relieved for the day. Shall we see you at dinner?"

The horned helmet filtered Basch's steady voice, but it didn't hide the gratitude in his tone. "Yes. Thank you, my lord." He nodded, and as he headed down in one direction, Penelo followed Larsa in the other.

_Is this all a mistake_, Penelo wondered as she and Larsa stepped into an elevator, her doubtful expression staring back at her when the metal doors closed. _I shouldn't be here._ The elevator began its descent, and Penelo's stomach sank along with it.

In many ways, Penelo felt unsteady, and she needed an anchor. She looked to Larsa, her only friend in this city besides Basch, and she could not express how grateful she was that he was here with her. He stood tall beside her, confident, his gaze ever forward. Whether it was the next step he had to take or the next step towards a brighter future for Ivalice, Larsa was always focused on what was ahead. Penelo supposed that was a trait leaders _should_ have: to predict and prepare when most would not.

While it was a relief to know Archadia had such a responsible leader, to live every moment worrying about the future must have been exhausting. It would be nice if once in a while, Larsa could take a break from it all so he could appreciate the present. Perhaps even, he could learn to leave his guilt behind, in the past where it belonged. He certainly deserved that peace.

Once they reached their destined floor, Larsa led her out into another hallway, and the guards that stood at each side of the elevator bowed, greeting their emperor with a brief "my lord." After several strides to the left, the echo of Larsa's boots stopped, and he turned to Penelo. "This is the guest floor of the palace. Since we currently have no others staying with us at this time, you have the entire floor to yourself."

Penelo gazed down the seemingly endless span of the hallway, and her eyes widened. "_All_ of it? How many rooms are there?"

"There are a total of twelve suites; the choice is yours."

Penelo darted her eyes from one door to the other, until the end of the hallway, and she felt overwhelmed. "I-I'm fine with _anything_, really."

Larsa smiled thoughtfully. "There is one in particular I think you would like. Follow me."

He walked past her, still carrying her luggage, and she followed him to a room that was at the very end of the hallway. Larsa finally placed her luggage down, and after Penelo snatched them back, she paused, noticing that the doors to her room were not automatic. The click of metal doorknobs turning was a welcome contrast to the hiss of the elevator doors.

Larsa flipped the light switch, revealing a room that Penelo felt was far too extravagant for her to stay in.

Tentatively, Penelo stepped into the room. As she placed her luggage down, she noted the spotless pale gold carpet beneath her, and she wondered if she should remove her sandals. However, removing shoes indoors didn't seem to be a custom Archadians shared with Dalmascans, as Larsa strode across the room, boots on, without a thought. She supposed it made sense – after all, the streets here were always clean, and there was no need to worry about tracking sand in here.

A bed large enough to fit at least _three_ of her stood to her left, its elaborately carved headrest of burnt sienna wood glowed softly in the dim artificial light. The crimson coverlet matched well with the red hue of the wooden end tables and vanity dresser. Penelo looked up to see the soft glow of a vine pattern on gold wallpaper, and to her right, there was even a door to a private bathroom.

Never in her life had she had so much space all to herself.

"When automatic doors were introduced to the palace, every room on the guest floor was renovated. However, this room was chosen to maintain its classic design, and so the traditional doors remained," Larsa explained. "And the colors always reminded me of you, because of your troupe." He turned his head slightly to look at her from the corner of his eyes, and Penelo thought she could see a hint of worry in them. "I thought you might like it."

Did he worry she wouldn't? This was nicer than any room she could ever hope to afford. Moments like this really reminded her that she and Larsa came from two entirely different worlds.

"It's…" Penelo abandoned her luggage to approach the bed, reaching out to feel the covers. Her fingers brushed against smooth silk, tracing a pattern of flowers embroidered in gold thread, and she wondered how many meals she could afford if she sold the entire cover set. She turned to Larsa. "It's beautiful," she said. She didn't want to tell him that it was _too_ nice for her to stay in, not when excitement spread his lips into such a handsome grin.

"You have yet to see the room's best feature." Larsa turned around and pulled on a rope that drew back pale gold curtains, allowing bright sunlight to pour in through the windows of yet another set of double doors. Penelo watched in surprise as Larsa opened the doors to reveal a balcony, and beyond that, a beautiful view.

The late afternoon sun still shone brightly even as it began its descent, casting long shadows as it illuminated the capital city. Penelo's room was so high up, she could see _everything_. If she walked to the far left side of the balcony, she could see the new district to the south, and beyond that were the rocky hills where the Sochen Cave Palace dwelled, and behind that, the light green grass of the Tchita Uplands. If she looked to the right, she could see the gray and purple mountains of the north.

Far below her were the districts of Tsenoble, Molberry, and Nilbasse, their skyscrapers much less towering from this elevation, yet still beautiful bathed in the warm summer light. An array of trees and fountains brought an element of nature to the city, particularly in Tsenoble. The swift aircabs whirring in the distance, as well as the people walking through the streets filled the city with life and movement.

Penelo sighed in relief, and her nervous heart settled. Archades was far less intimidating from up here.

"Penelo," She heard Larsa's tenor voice address her calmly. She turned, and was met with eyes that matched the sky behind him. "I wish for you to feel welcome here," he said. "My room is but one floor above yours. Should you need anything, please, do not hesitate to knock on my door."

He was so sweet, really. It was a relief to know she had a friend like him – a life vest in a sea of strangers.

"Thank you, Larsa."

She watched him look out into the sky, and his lips curved into an optimistic smile. "It appears we have but a few hours until the sun sets. I purposely scheduled for us to arrive with time to spare before nightfall. Penelo, once you are settled, meet me in the guest hallway. I would be a terrible host should I fail to take Dalmasca's newest ambassador on a proper tour of the city."

After her approving nod, Larsa took his leave, and Penelo was left alone with nothing but the whispering summer breeze and her own thoughts.

_Ambassador_ – that sounded strange in her head, and even more so out loud. She shouldn't have said yes to take on the job, but she did, and there was no going back now.

..

* * *

..

Penelo remembered Tsenoble as the district designated for the rich and influential, known here as the _gentry_: those with enough chops to prove their superiority over the citizens who lived in the districts below. The entire community was located at the highest levels of the skyscrapers, never to touch the dirt of the ground.

Five years ago, Penelo followed Lady Ashe to Archades on a mission to destroy the Empire's nethicite in Draklor Laboratory. She remembered the gentry of Tsenoble, and how they would look upon Ashe and their party with disgust, as though they were nothing more than tea stains on their white silk shirts.

But today, walking side-by-side with Larsa, with Archadia's _emperor_, things were different.

People still stared – when you stuck out in this sort of town that was to be expected. However, this time, the gentry did not look upon her with disgust. Children gazed in awe. Young men leered, while young women looked worried and envious. Elders examined her with curious eyes. Penelo held firmly onto Larsa's arm, for she felt if she were to let go, she would be nothing but helpless prey, doomed to be eaten alive.

The gentry were fickle in that way, to see her negatively before, yet positively now, simply for whom she was accompanying. She wondered how Larsa had grown to be so kind-hearted in such an environment. Since the day he saved her from Judge Ghis in Bhujerba, he never once treated her like she was less than him, even though he was in every position to.

She would have to add this special attention to her ever-growing list of Archadian things she needed to adjust to. Perhaps one day she could get halfway up to Larsa's level of comfort in the public eye; it was amazing to see how well he handled such a heavy burden.

It was also worth noting the confidence he had to not assign a Judge to guard them. When his father Lord Gramis was emperor, Larsa was never to be left unattended, although he ended up sneaking away from his escort anyway. Now that he held the title his father once did, he showed no hesitation in using his power to change protocol as he saw fit. Still, brave and optimistic as he was, Penelo would feel much more at ease if he didn't venture out of the palace unguarded.

Larsa was just pointing out a shop called _Rhys Antiques_ he used to always visit as a kid, when Penelo heard a voice from behind.

"Emperor Larsa! Emperor Larsa!" The male voice called. Larsa and Penelo turned to see a man with a long face and curious eyes behind a pair of round glasses. He wore a grey doublet with a white shirt of fine silk, his long umber hair tied securely at the back of his head. "Your Excellency," the man greeted Larsa with a single handshake. "My name is Jora Rickard, and I am with _The Tsenoble Report_ – how do you do?"

Larsa smiled politely. "I am well, Jora, and yourself?"

"Oh I am _very_ well, especially knowing that your Excellency has returned from Dalmasca safely. How was your trip to Rabanastre? Did you visit in honor of Her Royal Highness Queen Ashelia Dalmasca's birthday? Please, your Excellency, for the citizens of Tsenoble?" Jora spoke so swiftly, if his words were gusts of wind, Penelo would have blown away like paper in a storm. He was quick with his hands too, notebook and pen at the ready before Penelo could even blink.

Larsa continued to smile with the polite pretense he had mastered as a child. "Of course," he agreed, nodding once. "'Tis true; I made a brief visit to Rabanastre to wish Queen Ashe a happy birthday. She and her country are doing well, and I hope to maintain our good standing with them."

Jora scribbled Larsa's words onto the paper with enthusiasm. His head popped back up. "Then, Your Excellency, would you say that this was purely a diplomatic trip?"

Penelo looked at Larsa, and saw his eyebrows furrow a bit. "If by that you mean the trip was intended to strengthen the alliance between our countries, then that is correct. However, the primary intent of my visit was to join my friend in celebration."

"So this wasn't a vacation to escape your duties?"

Larsa furrowed his brows just a bit more. "Whoever told you that was mistaken. I have no intention to run from my position."

"Did you leave because you are ill?"

Larsa's brows lifted, and his eyes widened for a brief second. "Pardon?"

"Your Excellency, some of our readers have expressed concern about your health, and wish for us to report on it. They say you have been struck by an unknown illness."

_Wait..._

That sounded all too familiar to Penelo, like she heard it before...

Larsa smiled politely once again. "Jora, I must advise that you be more careful in choosing what information you trade your chops for; there is no truth to those rumors."

Jora looked disappointed as he wrote Larsa's last words. "I see. I am glad to hear you are in good health, my lord," he said, and looked up once more. His eyes finally seemed to notice Penelo, and they lit up. "And _who _is this beautiful young woman accompanying you?"

_Oh no._ Penelo didn't think she would get pulled into this, feeling both nervous and flattered all at once. She glanced at Larsa, pleading for help, for she had no idea what to say; Ashe had not instructed her on what she was allowed to share with the public. Larsa had returned her questioning look, and perhaps he was asking the same question with his eyes as she did with hers. Luckily, he was trained to make these decisions.

"Jora," he answered, "I would like to introduce to you Dalmasca's newest ambassador: Penelo."

"Ambassador Penelo!" Jora exclaimed, and he enthusiastically shook Penelo's hand, sending a wave of movement up her arm. "It is an honor!"

"It's nice to meet you, Jora," Penelo greeted.

"Now tell me," Jora inquired, pen in hand, ready to strike, "what brings you here to Archades?"

Penelo opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. She looked to Larsa once more, and she must have looked lost, for he understood completely what she needed for him to do.

Larsa leaned towards Penelo to redirect the reporter's attention to him. "Penelo has been sent here by Queen Ashe on a temporary assignment, the details of which cannot be disclosed at this time. But I can assure you: it is with the intention of furthering the peace between our nations."

Jora nodded as he wrote fervently. "I see, I see," he said, and after he finished his scribbles, he returned his gaze to Larsa. "I respect your wishes, Lord Larsa. Thank you so much for your time and words; I am sure the citizens of Tsenoble will be pleased to hear this. Good day to you, your Excellency," He shook Larsa's hand again, then Penelo's, "and good day to you, Ambassador."

As the reporter turned around and disappeared into the streets of Tsenoble, his words echoed in Penelo's head. _Rumors… unknown illness…_

Then, she found his words had triggered a memory. Just the week before she sent Larsa the invitation to Ashe's party, she was shopping for food in the Muthru Bazaar when she heard Archadian skypirates talking about their Emperor "falling ill." When she interrogated them, they admitted that it was just a rumor they had heard in Balfonheim. They recited to her the full version, which turned out to not only be a rumor, but a poem.

_Alas, The Emperor is falling ill _

_His life will end before his writes his will_

Those words made her heart skip a beat, and she had forgotten how to breathe. The thought of her best friend dead… she didn't _want_ to think of it. She was ashamed of what she had said to them next, but in her emotional state she couldn't help herself. "If you continue to spread this, I'll make sure it's _you _who falls ill!" They looked at her, horrified, and never spoke of it again.

When she had relayed the tale to Vaan, he didn't stop laughing for a full minute. "Damn Pen," he said, "You sure you don't wanna come back to piracy? You're more ruthless than I am!" Annoyed that he wasn't taking the rumors seriously, she then proceeded to smack him with the bag of flatbread she had bought.

Penelo looked up at her friend. "Larsa," she questioned, "Is it common for people to spread those kinds of rumors? About you being sick?"

"Penelo, you will learn soon enough that this city _thrives_ off of rumors – of any kind," he reassured her.

All she could do was nod in trust of his confidence. If he didn't take these rumors seriously, then maybe she shouldn't waste her energy worrying about them either.

Larsa released his arm from her so he could face her fully. "And that is why I must ask of you: please be careful in choosing what information to disclose," he warned. "These reporters – they will take any word you offer them and forge with it a weapon for your back."

She must have looked _horrified_, for Larsa quickly interjected, "Figuratively speaking, of course. It is your _reputation_ they are after, and here: your reputation may as well be your life."

_That's a lot of pressure._

"Time is running short – shall we continue?" He smiled at her, eyes beaming with excitement, and Penelo could almost forget about the dark rumors echoing in her head.

..

* * *

..

Even though it was the beginning of summer, the breeze was crisp, and it reminded Penelo of late autumn in Rabanastre. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she never left home at all, but simply travelled four months into the future.

However, Archades certainly wasn't home.

They walked through streets of cobblestone, immaculately cleaned, as each stone gleamed in the summer light. Larsa was pointing this way and that, filling the role of tour-guide, as he promised. Penelo saw towers with apartments so large each took its own floor – "residential suites," Larsa called them. Each suite had a balcony, many of which were decorated with furniture just like hers, and many of them had gardens. She saw a vibrant array of flowers: red, gold, and occasionally pink and violet. Potted plants hung from balcony roofs, and viridian vines hugged trellises with their long, winding stems. There was a stark difference between the lush Archadian foliage and the sturdy desert vegetation of Dalmasca, but it was beautiful all the same.

As Penelo gazed upon these buildings where brick met metal, and cobblestone streets led to automatic doors, she couldn't help but think how strange it all was to see this mixture of old and new. It was amazing to see that such different materials could work together to create one unified piece of architecture. It was strange, but it was beautiful. The more Penelo gazed at these buildings that towered over her, with their balconies and their gardens, and the people lucky enough to own them, the more she found herself wanting to know how they came to be. For the first time in her life, she wanted to know the full history of Archadia, beyond what she had learned from war's horrors.

Larsa pointed out a building that accommodated several restaurants, each one having its own floor. Large terraces supported outdoor seating, so patrons could enjoy the warm sun and cool air of the Archadian summer. One couldn't find much outdoor seating like this in Rabanastre, not with Dalmasca's deadly, almost endless summer, and Penelo was definitely jealous.

They passed various shops and high-end fashion boutiques with beautiful, elaborate gowns in the window that Penelo struggled to pry her eyes away from. Towering trees decorated the streets, providing shade with green leaves that rustled gently in the breeze, glowing almost gold in the late afternoon sun. It was quiet, peaceful, and Penelo had gotten so lost in it all, she barely noticed that Larsa stopped walking. At the end of the road, an aircab hovered in place, waiting for them.

Larsa turned to regard the buildings behind them. "It's beautiful isn't it – Tsenoble?"

Penelo lifted her gaze to look upon the glistening towers once more. She was still stunned by the district, and a small "yeah" was all she could muster.

"I thought so too, until I realized the extent of the exclusivity of it – then it lost its charm." His gaze dropped from the monoliths to meet her eyes. "Beauty is meaningless if it cannot be seen, and prosperity is worthless when it sits idly, out of reach." Larsa released his arm from her now, and stepped towards the aircab to open its back door. He held his left hand out to her. "Penelo, come with me, and I shall show you true beauty."

Penelo smiled, gently took his hand, and stepped into the aircab.

..

* * *

..

After the war, Larsa had made it his mission to clear the air between Archadia and Dalmasca by helping Ashe restore her rightful kingdom to what it once was. During the battle above Rabanastre, the power of the Bahamut had left the city under a pile of debris, and the country simply didn't have the economic standing or manpower to execute the reconstruction of their damaged infrastructure.

In the first meeting of the Council of Ivalice, it was declared that Archadia was liable for the damaged caused by Bahamut's crash landing onto the Royal City of Rabanastre. Larsa showed no hesitation in not only funding the repairs in full, but sending his own people to provide labor. It was the least they could do for years' worth of war and oppression.

While in doing this, his mind was struck with a criticism: if he was so willing to help another country in need, he must also look at the needs of his own, or he would be a hypocrite. He could no longer go on without taking action on the situation in Old Archades. A town in poverty just outside his own home city – he was ashamed to have been ignorant to the reality of it for so long. He had discovered many dark truths about his country after meeting Lady Ashe and her party, and he swore to himself that he would dedicate his life to revealing all the truths in this world, no matter their nature, for education was the key to true peace.

So he drafted a bill that would pardon those who had lost their citizenship in Archades, and to integrate Old Archades into the capital, as an official district. However, it would have been cruel of him to not change the name that would forever be tainted with a dark past. And thus, Orbonne was written into Archadian law as an official district of Archades.

Larsa remembered that moment well, when he signed the bill into law. He had never felt so much pride, not only in himself, but in his country. And now he couldn't wait to share this accomplishment with his best friend.

..

* * *

..

Penelo's sandals clicked against cobblestone as she stepped foot onto what was once known as Old Archades. After Larsa thanked the driver, the aircab whirred as it flew away, clearing Penelo's view of the new district.

It was nothing like she had remembered.

She remembered ruins of the old capital rotting as Mother Nature reclaimed what was once hers. She remembered alleys of muted sighs and low whispers, of starving adults and children, left destitute by the very Empire that was meant to protect them, their spirits withering away along with the stone ground they sat upon. It was a sad sight to see, one that was all too familiar to the Dalmascan orphan.

However, Old Archades was no more. Now in its place stood the district of Orbonne, and it stood proudly.

Larsa led her down the district's main street at a gentle pace, his eyes ahead. "After the Orbonne bill passed through the Senate, we funded what I had called 'the Archades Expansion Project,' a program with the goal of building a new district to accommodate the anticipated growth in the city's population. I offered these jobs to anyone who wished to work, including those who lived in the old capital. In addition to their payment of gil and chops, I promised to grant them homes in return once the district was completed; until then, we provided temporary housing for them. For those unable to perform such manual labor, we found work for them elsewhere: within and outside the city."

"Many citizens from Trant and Rienna also joined the project, and together we built this very street we walk upon, schools, as well as homes," he gestured to the apartment complexes to their right. Although the buildings were not nearly as tall as the towers of Tsenoble, only a few stories high, Penelo found that they weren't as intimidating because of it. They were painted beautifully in shades of sienna, beige, and copper to match the rest of the city; and while the homes were smaller and didn't have balconies or automatic doors, they were _homes_, and that was enough.

Larsa told her that when news broke out that he had granted homes to the new citizens at no cost, many of the gentry professed their outrage and complaints to him and the Senate. It wasn't fair to those who had no government assistance paying for their homes, they said. However, Larsa simply dismissed them, much to their dismay (and his delight, he admitted). He confessed to Penelo that he took much pleasure in shocking the gentry, and he anticipated that his next bill would be the most ground-breaking of all.

"When the war ended, I ordered for the return of our soldiers. As such, there was no longer a need for a substantial military budget, and so I diverted those funds towards Orbonne." Larsa's lips curved into a satisfied smirk. "Chairman Garamondt was most opposed to this – however, he was greatly outnumbered in the vote, or should I say, greatly outmatched in our debate." He glanced at her, holding his smile, and Penelo couldn't help but chuckle amusedly at his shameless display of pride.

As they passed a school on their left, two young boys rushed past them. "I'll race you to 'The Eye!'" one of them called to the other just before they sprinted down the street.

"What's 'The Eye'?" Penelo asked as she watched the two boys race ahead.

"'Tis the district's center, where the marketplace is located. Shall we have a look?"

..

* * *

..

When they reached the center, Penelo understood why it was nicknamed 'The Eye'. She had been too distracted by her memories of the old capital when she viewed Orbonne from _the Sylph_ to notice that the main street opened up into an almond-shaped plaza.

And within that plaza, lived a bustling marketplace.

It wasn't nearly as developed as Rabanastre's Muthru Bazaar, Penelo noted, but despite its humble size, it was lively enough in its own right. Market stalls bordered all sides of the plaza; the white tarps covering them billowed gently in the early summer breeze. Everywhere, people were going about their business: adults shopping for food and goods while their children played, enjoying their after-school freedom.

"This is the Orbonne Market," Larsa explained, "Once its construction had concluded, those who worked on the expansion project needed to find other means of work. Some managed to find jobs in other districts; however, others reached out to local farms just outside the city. While tending to the crops, they convinced the farmers to work with them in selling their produce to a new market here in Archades."

The market offered an array of goods from all corners of the Empire: various vegetables, as well as blackberries and mulberries from farms just outside the city, bottles of beer and wine, along with apples and potatoes from lands that once made up the farming villages of Landis.

"The market has grown much these past two years. A few citizens are even starting their own businesses. For example," Larsa gestured to a stall on their right that had freezers powered by magicite. "Sommer's Ice Cream was started by a woman from the former Republic of Landis. She uses a special family recipe that has been handed down to her through generations." After passing a few more stalls, he led her to the only shop that was inside a building. "Beckermann's sells Landisian-style baked goods." With a wave of his hand, he gestured her to follow him inside.

Within the small, crowded bakery, an assortment of breads, pastries, and pies was displayed behind glass; the air around it all was warm and smelt delicious, prompting Penelo's mouth to water. It had occurred to her that it had been a few hours since her last meal, as she was too nervous to eat anything while aboard _The Sylph_. She felt a deep rumble in her stomach as she perused the display of cockatrice pies; perhaps she would try one. Just when she was about to pull some gil out of her bag, Larsa had already bought two of them, wrapped in brown paper pouches, and handed one to her. "I still owe you for lunch the other day," he insisted.

Once they left the bakery, Penelo took a bite of the pie; it was warm and savory and had a mixture of vegetables and cockatrice meat. She sighed, content to bask in the flavor of the Landisian comfort food.

"The first time I tried one of these was with Basch," Larsa told her between bites. "When Beckermann's first opened, he insisted I try one. They're his favorite, you see. He said when he was a child, his mother would bake a batch every week, and he and Noah would finish them all within a day."

Nostalgia and longing tugged at Penelo's heartstrings. Basch must have missed his twin brother dearly. Penelo too wished she could go back to the days when she and her own brothers would devour their mom's cooking together.

"Ever since then," Larsa said, "I make sure to eat one every chance I visit Orbonne."

After passing a few merchants that sold handmade clothing and accessories, Larsa and Penelo reached the center of the Eye. A stone fountain stood tall, dark blue-gray and gleaming, sculpted in the shape of the winding twin serpents of House Solidor. The serpents towered over Penelo, and they returned her gaze with ferocious eyes as water poured through their piercing teeth.

Ever since the first day she laid eyes on the sigil of House Solidor, Penelo associated it with the imperialism her country had been subjected to. However, every flash of fear she felt was now followed by guilt. After all, with Gramis and Vayne gone, Larsa alone _was_ House Solidor; It was _him_ she should associate it with, no one else. Perhaps one day she would look upon it with fondness for her friend, rather than feeling threatened.

They sat on the fountain's stone border to finish their pies, the sound of rushing water almost overpowering the chatter of busy marketgoers.

"It seems a lot of Landisians live here," Penelo remarked.

Larsa finished swallowing his last bite of pie before he answered. "Yes. When The Republic of Landis was…" he looked down, "_forced_ under Imperial rule… Many of their farming villages suffered; their labor exploited so we could claim their crops for our own. 'Tis another shameful part of our history I can never forget." The paper pouch crinkled as he folded it neatly in half. "Many of them had no choice but to leave their villages to look for work elsewhere, for they could no longer afford the inflated prices of their own crops – and so they fled to the capital in hopes to find new opportunities. Unfortunately, unless they gave their service to our military, few of them found success. After all, that is where the majority of our funds were directed."

"Gabranth…" Penelo remembered wondering how Basch's mysterious twin brother managed to climb the ranks to Judge Magister. He was skilled in battle – that much she knew first-hand, and he must have impressed his superiors. However, his was a rare talent, and not all were so lucky, nor were they willing to grovel at the feet of Emperors as he did.

"Yes," Larsa said, folding the paper in half yet again without looking at it. "He was the greatest example of success, although he wasn't exactly open about his lineage – to my father, brother and I, yes, perhaps Drace as well, but no one else to my knowledge. Even to me, he hardly mentioned his homeland."

Penelo wondered if he would have gotten so far if more people knew the truth. Would his military superiors not have been so willing to promote him if they saw him as inferior for being from Landis? But she could only speculate, and as she did so, she finished her pie and crumpled the paper wrapping into a ball.

"However, it was not just Landis that struggled," Larsa continued, "Many people from across the Empire have found themselves here in search of a new beginning, yet I fear they struggle still. I have tried all I can think of to help them, but tisn't enough. I wish there was more I could do for my people. I hope eliminating the Chop System can create a clean slate, granting everyone equal opportunity. Still, even were the bill to pass, I feel… there is much more that can be done." He folded the paper in half a third time, meticulously smoothing out the creases as though that would fix all the world's problems.

Penelo wished Larsa could see how very wrong he was about himself. In his five years as Emperor, he had already done far more good for Ivalice than Gramis did his entire reign. However, in this moment, Larsa seemed too vulnerable to handle criticism about his beloved late father, so Penelo left that thought to rest.

Larsa was still fidgeting with the paper, so Penelo gently took his hands in her own, stilling them. He looked at her, eyes weary with guilt. "You're doing fine, Larsa," she reassured him, "All great societies were not built in a day, right? Neither will this; give it time."

Larsa smiled softly at her words before bringing his gaze over to the crowd of citizens around them. "I wish for my people to thrive," he said, "I wish for them to be happy. I hope I may one day see my people live together as one, not divided by trivial matters such as status and reputation. Once we are united, I hope we can direct our focus outwards, to better our efforts to foster peace with other nations as well." His eyes held her gaze steady, an unwavering resolve she had not seen in him since the day he made an oath to protect his country. "This is only the beginning, I promise you – as I promise Archadia."

A moment passed when all Penelo could hear was the calming flow of the fountain behind her. Water was forever changing its shape, adapting to its environment as it travelled wherever the world took it; she hoped the Archadian people would be just as cooperative to the changes Larsa had planned for them.

"They're lucky to have you."

At her words, the resolve in his eyes melted into relief. He smiled at her again, light, as though the weight of a thousand troubles had been lifted off him. "Thank you, Penelo."

After, Larsa volunteered to take their trash, leaving Penelo's side in search for the nearest garbage bin. It was during his search when a charming, playful lilt of a string instrument danced its way into Penelo's ears. Her eyes darted up, wandering around in search of the source of beautiful music. As though she were a puppet on a string, the music pulled her out of her seat and around the fountain, until she saw a man standing on the other side of the stone serpents. The young man plucked the strings of an Archadian lute, tapping his foot to the rhythm as it quickened.

The steady beat soon evolved into a charming melody that spread across the air like gentle rain. It was light, but brisk, and Penelo found herself bobbing her head to the uplifting song. It reminded her of an old song she used to hear in Rabanastre when she was a little girl – one that the troupes used to dance to…

Penelo always liked doing street performances; after all, that's where her career began.

She approached the lutenist while snapping her hips to the swift rhythm, her arms lifting gracefully as she danced by the fountain. The young man beamed at her, understanding well that she was there to join him in putting on an impromptu performance. He was more than willing to partake in this collaboration, as he started to play his music with more enthusiasm, and the volume grew louder.

It didn't take long for people to notice, and soon they started to gather around the fountain, putting their shopping on pause to watch the performance. This dance must be new to them, Penelo knew, as she could see it in the looks of fascination on their faces. Penelo undulated her body to the melody with grace as she continued to snap her hips to the beat. The curious faces of the onlookers became smiles of appreciation, and Penelo gained a burst of energy from it.

She got up onto the balls of her feet and started traveling to the right, snapping her right hip up continuously as she slowly lifted her arms to the sky. Once her hands went over her head, she stopped, then she sent a smooth wave of motion up her body – first through her hips, then her stomach, then her chest, and lastly she lifted her chin up until she saw only the cerulean summer sky.

Finally, for the first time since stepping foot onto Archades ground, Penelo felt comfortable in her own skin. Dancing had a way of making her feel at peace wherever she was, and she was forever grateful for it.

She stopped there, turning until she found who she was looking for. Off to the side, Larsa had been watching, a grin spread across his face.

_Get over here, wallflower._ Penelo skipped over to him, grabbed his hands and pulled him with her to the fountain, giving him little time to protest.

Larsa had no objections, but instead, seemed to find amusement in the spontaneity of it, his laughter a pleasant chime in the air. Together they waltzed light and quick, with more bounce in their steps than their slow dance at Ashe's party. Improvised, their waltz was less refined than what was expected from traditional Archadian dance. It felt almost silly; the two must have looked less like Emperor and Ambassador, and more like two children playing in a schoolyard.

At the sight of the dancing pair, even more people gathered around the fountain in awe at such a spectacle. Penelo imagined it must be shocking for them to see their Emperor dancing on the streets with a strange Dalmascan woman, but she was having far too much fun to care what they thought; and when she looked into Larsa's eyes, blue and smiling, she knew she was not alone in that.

As the song reached its last line of notes, Larsa released Penelo's waist and spun her outwards to his left, until their arms were fully outstretched, like an unraveled ribbon. He pulled her towards him, her body twirling until he held her in his arms again. She felt herself tipping backward_, _and as the song reached its final note, Larsa lowered her into a dip.

Their performance was met with a cheery applause from the audience, their claps and occasional whistles filling the air around them.

The dip was a nice touch, Penelo thought, although she wasn't expecting the traditional Rozarrian dance move from Archadia's Emperor. "Taking tips from Al-Cid, huh?" she teased as Larsa lifted her back to her feet.

Larsa managed a shaky chuckle, a minor anxiety taking over his earlier boldness. "Did I do the move justice?"

"You did pretty well, dance partner," Penelo smirked, "although a warning is typically protocol."

"S-sorry," he stammered as he finally let go of her waist. A charming hue of pink softly filled his face; whether it was from the dance, or the summer heat, Penelo knew not.

The crowd dispersed a bit, as people continued on with their shopping. Larsa tipped the lutenist generously, and thanked him for letting him and Penelo dance to his music.

Suddenly, a voice emerged from the chatter of the marketgoers. "Emperor Larsa! Emperor Larsa!"

They turned to see a woman shuffling through the remnants of the crowd. She looked to be in her forties, her blonde hair half tied up, half down, the long waves bouncing against her shoulders as she made her way over to the pair. She had curious emerald eyes and a notebook in her left hand.

"My lord, do you have a word to spare for _The Orbonne Times_?" she asked with a smooth hum of a voice in an accent that was not quite Archadian.

_Not another reporter, _Penelo thought. Her last encounter with one left a sour taste in her mouth, and she wouldn't complain if she never saw another.

However, Larsa's expression didn't become reserved as it did with the man from _The Tsenoble Report._ In fact, he had a welcoming smile as he shook her hand. "Of course. You're Lacinda fon Reick, correct?" The reporter nodded. "Your article about Landisian farmers was illuminating. It would be my pleasure to answer any questions you have for future stories."

"Thank you my lord," Then, Lacinda directed her smile to Penelo. "And my dear, what is your name?" she asked, and when Penelo offered her name, the reporter shook her hand with enthusiasm. "Tis a pleasure to meet you, Penelo. I must say, your dance was lovely! I recognized the style – you are from Dalmasca, no? I used to see the troupes dance when they travelled to Landis on their tours – before the war, of course. Are there new troupes in Rabanastre?"

Penelo couldn't believe what she had heard. This woman had actually seen the old troupes? "Yes, I am," she answered, a smile spreading across her lips at the thought of her friends and students. "And yes, I actually started one recently with my mentor – she used to be in one of the old troupes you mentioned. We are called the Dancing Galbanas, and we formed right after the war ended."

"Really?" Lacinda beamed, beginning to write in her notebook. "Oh that is good news indeed! Will you and your troupe be performing here in Archades?"

Larsa chimed in, "Unfortunately, no. Penelo is here as Ambassador of Dalmasca, for a temporary assignment – the nature of which cannot be disclosed, I'm afraid."

"Oh truly?" Lacinda's eyes lit up. "Ambassador Penelo, it is with honor I welcome you to Archades. I hope you have taken a liking to the city?" She managed to speak and write at the same time, keeping her letters in a straight line without looking – an impressive feat, Penelo admitted.

"Oh yes," Penelo smiled humbly, nodding once. "Archades is… very different from Rabanastre."

"Well I do hope you enjoy your stay." Lacinda turned to face Larsa. "Your Grace, do you have a word to share regarding your trip to Dalmasca?"

Larsa took a few seconds to think on it before he answered, "Every chance I visit Rabanastre, I find myself inspired by their welcoming community," he regarded Penelo with a warm smile, "Also, I had the pleasure of reuniting with Penelo; she and I have been good friends for several years now."

"Excellent, excellent." Lacinda nodded swiftly as she jotted down the last of Larsa's statement. "'Tis a relief to know the Empire is on good terms with Dalmasca, and the people of Orbonne will be pleased to know of your arrival. Thank you my lord," she shook his hand again. After a quick glance at Penelo, she rummaged through her messenger bag to pull out a familiar block of wood. "Ambassador: for you," she said, as she held out a single pinewood chop.

_She's paying me? Why?_

Penelo shook her head, eyes wide. "Oh no, I can't accept this. I didn't really do _anything_."

Lacinda grinned. "Do not sell yourself short, my dear, you have done me a great favor." When she saw that Penelo still looked doubtful, she continued, "I have been searching for a story all day, and you have granted it to me. Please, take it."

"Do- do you have a lot? I don't want to put you out or anything."

The reporter shook her head. "Worry not. With the story you gave me, this is the least I can exchange." She held the chop out further, her eager smile urging Penelo to take it.

Penelo complied, although reluctantly. The pinewood was light in color and smooth in her hands, likely sanded down and polished. The rectangular block was as long as her hand, and when she held it on its side, she could see that it was cut at an angle. Penelo held it flatly again, and gazed into the symbol of the Archadian Empire engraved in the wood with fine craftsmanship. When she examined it closer, she could see there were many engravings, of words and symbols that held no meaning to her, and they were so tiny, so shallow, that if she wasn't blessed with good eyesight, she would not see them at all.

"Thank you," was all she could say.

Lacinda shook Penelo's hand again. "It was lovely meeting you, Ambassador Penelo. I do hope we cross paths in the future."

Penelo thanked her again, and she couldn't help but smile at the woman in front of her. It was a relief to have met someone who had known something about her country and culture, and she felt a little less out of place in this city of strangers.

With a spring in her step, Lacinda left them to approach the lutenist a few paces away.

Penelo gazed down into the pinewood chop in her hands, regretting her decision to accept it. What would an ambassador need with a chop? Ashe and Larsa assured her all her needs would be taken care of during her stay. She ought to go back to Lacinda and return it. As soon as Lacinda finished her interview with the lutenist, Penelo could-

"Penelo, are you alright?" Larsa's voice shook her out of her thoughts.

She continued to look down at her pinewood chop guiltily. "There are so many people who need this more than me. People who need to prove their status to buy a _home_, people who don't have connections to get into the city…"

Larsa stared on, listening.

Penelo sighed. "Also, I didn't really do _anything_ to earn this. I know I gave her a story, but – she only spoke to me because I was with _you_. And I'm only interesting enough to write a story about because Ashe appointed me Ambassador. I only have this because of my _connections_ to people, not for anything I've actually done."

Larsa blinked, shaking his head once. "I disagree, although that is the case in many circumstances. But even were it true, you forgot one thing: your dance. She was quite excited to hear about your troupe; and it was because you danced that she even noticed us at all."

"I should just give this back to her."

Larsa nodded thoughtfully. "You could, although it is usually considered an insult if someone rejects a chop offering. Such an act would often be interpreted as you saying she is not successful enough to help you. However, she was raised in Landis, so there is a chance she would see it differently. Even so, 'tis a risk I personally would not take."

Penelo sighed again, sitting down on the fountain's brick edge.

"It is entirely your choice whether you should keep it or not. You could give it away, and that would be noble of you," Larsa suggested. "However, I think you should keep it; after all, you will be here for a month. You never know when you might need information."

Penelo shook her head once before lifting her eyes to him. "But what's the point? The Chop system will be abolished soon, right?"

It was Larsa's turn to sigh. "There is no guarantee my bill will even leave the Senate floor, Penelo. And even if we could convince more than half the Senate to vote in favor, it would take months to process before we can even put it into law. 'Tis an ugly, tedious endeavor, I'm afraid. In the meantime, I say you ought to put that chop to good use, don't you think?"

Penelo huffed, discontent with the situation.

"Penelo," Larsa spoke to her calmly, "You may not like the game, but you must play it – after all, 'tis the law."

"A law that sucks," Penelo murmured, prompting Larsa to laugh, but she didn't join him. "I mean, what if no one was willing to give a reporter like Lacinda information just because she's an ardent from Landis? What if she gave information to someone from Tsenoble, but they don't give her the chops in return for the same reason? There's no law forcing anyone to give chops, not like gil. If you take something without paying gil, it's considered theft, and you get arrested for it. With chops there are no repercussions _at all_."

Larsa nodded. "And as long as the Chop System remains, there never _can_ be, for chops are defined as gifts, as written in the original bill."

"So that puts people at the mercy of someone else's generosity…" Penelo shook her head. The thought of relying on the generosity of those entitled gentry left an uncomfortable feeling in her gut. Now that she thought about it, it had been the _ardents_ who had parted with their chops when Ashe and the party needed them all those years ago.

"A feigned generosity, one that comes with a price," Larsa crossed his arms. "As you see, this system can be easily corrupted and has been for generations. It has created barriers, designed to keep the wealthy at the top, while those less fortunate scramble for scraps on the ground. It has created a culture of greed and entitlement over the years."

_A culture that's centuries old. Would it even be possible to change it?_

Penelo looked down at the pinewood chop she held in her lap. _Meanwhile, I have to figure out what to do with this, _she thought, tracing the carvings with her thumb. This was all so complicated. She was handed a job with no instructions on how to do it, no clear list of rights and wrongs; a job that, as far as she knew, had never been done before. To change an entire city's centuries-old culture and way of life…It was daunting to say the least, especially so for a simple dancer from a far-away land.

As Penelo pondered the probability of such a feat, Larsa sat beside her on the fountain's edge.

It was as though he read her thoughts. "It seems impossible to challenge such a system, I know. However, there are two directions we could go to find a solution: we either change the _people_, or the _law_. Now, I cannot simply change who a person _is_, nor do I wish to abuse my power to dictate how and when one uses their rightfully earned chops. And so, I have chosen to change the law – to eliminate the necessity for chops entirely."

"You can do both," Penelo offered, "You can still change your people. You could _influence_ them, to a point where their values would change naturally. It would take _time_, but at least you wouldn't have to force them."

Larsa smiled warmly. "And I suppose that is the reason you are here: to offer Archades a new perspective. To influence them, as you have influenced me."

_He gives me too much credit_, Penelo thought, feeling like an impostor, yet she returned his smile.

"Alright," Larsa exhaled, his expression brightened. "And so we change both. First we change the law, and in turn, the law changes the people – with your help, of course."

_Of course – however I'm supposed to do that._

Larsa stood, and his smile faltered at the sight of Penelo's disheartened expression. "Worry not, Penelo. You are capable of more than you know; of this I have no doubt." He offered his hand to her. "Let's continue, shall we?"

That charming, optimistic smile of his could convince her to follow him anywhere – to get her to believe anything. Even with all her doubts about the future, she wasn't alone in this task, and if Larsa believed they could do it, then maybe… so did she.

Penelo took Larsa's hand, and while it was his strength that brought her to her feet, it was his encouragement that lifted her spirits.

Together they walked through the streets of Orbonne, once a nameless place paved with the debris of fallen dreams; it was nothing like that now. If this was what Larsa could accomplish in just a few short years, Penelo couldn't wait to see that else he had in store. And although she felt no closer to her own purpose in this endeavor, she was excited for the day she would find it.

* * *

...

**Author's Note:**

Thank you for reading! Now we are all caught up to where this story is on AO3! Keep in mind this story is a work-in-progress. I do have a backlog of 4 chapters waiting that need to be edited, however, I will be spending the month of October outlining more chapters so I will be prepared for NaNoWriMo in November. Updates might not happen until December, but we'll see!

In the meantime, I will be posting a couple of oneshots, including one about Penelo quitting sky pirating, so look forward to that coming up soon!

If you ever wanna chat, I'm on Tumblr and Twitter!

Tumblr: chaoticrice

Twitter: ShellayRice

..

This chapter was named after the song "Into the Ocean" by Blue October

Thank you to my beta reader Ridorana!


	5. Into the Ocean, Part 2

**Author's Note: **We are back! Expect regular updates from now on.

* * *

**5\. Into the Ocean, Part Two**

**...**

Penelo was amazed to see how, over the years, Archades had changed so much, yet so little.

Larsa had escorted her all afternoon on a tour of the city, through the seemingly unattainable riches of Tsenoble, as well as the newly formed and continuously growing district of Orbonne. And while the reconstruction of Old Archades was promising, Penelo was disappointed to see that not much else of the Imperial city had changed at all. But really, what else did she expect?

It wasn't Larsa's fault at all. While the people of Archades were ambitious and hard-working, seeking knowledge to better their minds and fatten their pockets, they were also _incredibly_ stubborn. Innovative with their technology, one would think they would be fit candidates to improve other areas of their society as well, but alas, there they were, still running on a centuries-old system that had absolutely no reflection of the Ivalice they lived in today. It was as though some ridiculously powerful time mage had cast stop on the entire city, and there wasn't a remedy in sight.

Penelo supposed she could cast dispel until she passed out, yet even that wouldn't be enough for half the city, sadly.

The citizens of Archades clung to the Chop System as though it was all that could ever hold them together. While their precious hierarchy was no longer necessary (and quite damaging), it was simply the Archadian way of organizing people, and Penelo understood the appeal of creating order in a world of chaos. It was like the impressive monoliths of Tsenoble, structured and withstanding. However, while a solid foundation and sturdy walls were good for a long-lasting building, society was not meant to be treated like architecture. With every generation, people changed their views, needs, and ways of life. They were unpredictable, like an improvised dance. It would only make sense for laws to evolve along with them.

However, a part of Penelo couldn't blame the Archadians for being set in their ways. She remembered finding comfort in the routine of her life working at Miguelo's Sundries. Every day, from morning to late afternoon, she would process transactions, stock shelves, and run whatever errands Miguelo had set for her. It was a relief to know that the work she and Vaan did would earn them food to eat and beds to sleep on. Even years later, Penelo had really missed the order and stability of it all. And that was the reason why, despite her new career in dance, she had asked Ashe if there was any work she could do in the Royal Palace in her spare time – landing her a simple, repetitive desk job, writing letters and sealing envelopes with wax.

There were _some_ things that would never change no matter what, and that was okay.

But there were also things that really, _really_, should.

**...**

* * *

**...**

As the sun began its descent, Larsa continued their tour.

Trant was mostly known as the arts district of Archades, and the Barbanas Theatre was the heart of it.

"The Barbanas Theatre was built along with the new capital two-hundred-and-five years ago, during the first days of the Empire." Larsa gestured to the building with a nod. "It was designed in the style that was popular in the days of the Republic, and has been chosen to remain as such by its current owner, Brutias Rhys, former member of the Imperial Senate. This is where we will be hosting the Council of Ivalice this year."

Indeed, the behemoth of a building stood out amongst the shiny metal towers; it was all stone, tall windows, arches and parapets. Despite its age, it was well maintained, and certainly the closest thing to the Royal Palace of Rabanastre that existed in the Imperial City.

People were coming and going, actors reading their scripts and set designers lugging wood, paint and other supplies up the steps into the theatre.

"Maybe one day they'll write a play about you," Penelo suggested. Larsa was bound to become the greatest emperor in Archadia's history, after all.

Larsa shook his head at the concept. "And hopefully they won't write me as the antagonist."

Trant was also known as the center of celebration. Festivals were often held on the main street, in and around the Barbanas Theatre. "The Grand Ballroom is also located within the theatre, however 'tis on the other side," Larsa said, "You will see it during the Midsummer Festival."

Larsa had mentioned it to her in one of his letters: an Archadian holiday celebrating the changing of seasons.

_Change. Ha. _

Penelo had to stop herself from snorting at the irony.

Their next stop was the district of Rienna, known for its array of restaurants, and of course, the Aerodrome.

Penelo remembered briefly stopping by the aerodrome in her hunt for chops all those years ago, and it was mostly filled with Archadians flying out to do business in Bhujerba, or going to their summer homes for vacation. Looking at it now, and thinking about Larsa's bill, she wanted to see the building filled with people coming _in_ to the city.

She pictured humes, bangaa, seeq, moogles and viera – from the Estersand of Dalmasca all the way to the far western shores of Rozarria – all gathered together in the terminal, ready to see the Imperial City. It would be nice if Vaan and Kytes could visit, along with Malikah and the troupe. And if anyone could live here, without status or connections… it would be just like Rabanastre.

Like _home_.

This must be the vision Larsa had for the future of Archades, and Penelo wanted so much to see it in reality.

Molberry and Nilbasse remained almost entirely the same – that is, with the exception of the booming news industry.

There were reporters _everywhere_. Every street, building and corner seemed to have either a reporter or newspaper salesman ready to jump at every opportunity to make gil and chop alike.

As soon as Larsa stepped foot onto the main street of Molberry, reporters surrounded him. One man working for the _Trant Tribune_ asked Larsa if he would be seeing the upcoming production at the theatre, while a reporter from Rienna asked if Larsa had any plans to expand the district to accommodate the ever growing line of restaurants. Reporters from Molberry and Nilbasse asked if he had plans to raise the chop fee to ride aircabs to Tsenoble, to which Larsa answered, "Absolutely not. I am afraid whoever told you that has sold you false information, and I am sorry."

Throughout all districts, gossip columnists asked him about what he did on his "luxurious vacation" in Dalmasca, and they even inquired about the nature of his relationship with Penelo, to which he and Penelo answered simultaneously, "We're good friends."

Many of Larsa's answers to their questions were vague and brief, yet he answered them in ways that _felt_ like he was giving them complete stories to tell. It was like a game, to find the precise words needed in order to both protect himself, _and_ give the reporters enough information to leave him alone. And the way he did it – with such quick wit and that charming smile of his – it was truly an art form, one that Penelo only hoped she could learn.

Larsa spoke through layers of filters, knowing exactly how to stop false information from spreading, to withhold information the public wasn't ready for, and to stall the reporters so he could pause and contemplate his words before answering. He also knew when to give the public a smile that reassured them their country was doing just fine.

Penelo imagined a waitress at the Sandsea, holding a tray of several plates and cups in one arm, holding utensils in the other, and taking the customer's orders and committing them to memory all at once – and doing it all with a smile on her face, a pleasant tone in her voice, and grace in her movements. That was the most familiar analogy she could relate to what Larsa experienced every day, and it made sense to her – after all, as Emperor it wasn't his job to just rule his people, but to serve them, too.

It must have been exhausting to keep up with it all. To what extent could a stressful job such as Emperor affect someone over the years of their life?

Penelo flicked her eyes away from the crowded streets of Nilbasse to take a good look at her friend walking beside her.

Larsa always walked in a way that was uniquely him, with his right arm still and his left arm swinging, his chin high and his spine straight. He took every step with the grace of a nobleman, and every stride with an unbreakable surety in his direction. He moved with the enthusiasm of a profound curiosity that must be quelled.

He had always known where he was going. Penelo wished she did, too.

Although Larsa's essence remained intact, there was an emergence of something that was… concerning. Now, there was uncertainty in his eyes where optimism used to be. His shoulders tensed as though he were constantly bracing himself to bear the weight of the entire world. Fatigue weighed on his lips and jaw from a lifetime of feigning smiles for the public.

Penelo felt so useless. As much as she wished she could alleviate all his troubles, she knew she couldn't. Sadly, she didn't have the power to make the world a friendlier place – such a feat would not be achievable by one person alone and especially not someone as ordinary as her.

_So what can I do?_

Penelo gave Larsa's arm a gentle squeeze, just to let him know that she was here to support him as a friend. It wasn't enough, but it was all she could do.

At her touch, he turned to her, eyes wide and searching for any signs of trouble. When she smiled at him, his lips spread into a genuine grin of his own. He averted his gaze to the ground in front of him, failing to hide the soft pink on his flushed cheeks.

It was a shame Larsa was so fond of hiding, because Penelo wanted to see more. He had grown to be exceptionally handsome in the last few years, and despite how hard she tried, Penelo found it increasingly difficult to ignore. It was that pesky heart of hers, defying her orders to stop hammering every time Larsa so much as glanced her way with those blue eyes of his.

If Penelo ever had the chance to write a law, she would make it illegal for an emperor to be that attractive.

_Breathe, _she reminded herself as she tore her eyes away from him.

**...**

* * *

**...**

After their tour, Larsa had a cab drop them off on the Imperial Palace private landing dock.

Before Penelo could approach the doors of the palace, Larsa stopped her with a gentle hand on the shoulder. "It would be a shame to miss this sunset," he said, gesturing with his other hand to the sky behind them.

They approached the balcony railing and gazed into the city below, bathed in amber as the sun descended behind the distant mountains. Penelo leaned forward and sighed, relaxing against the railing. She watched as Archades slowly fell into slumber. The bustle of the city slowed to a crawl, and the whirs of aircabs became whispers.

Penelo yawned; it had been a long day, and she was too tired to absorb it all just yet, but it was too early to sleep.

"Penelo," Larsa said softly, and she turned to see his curious eyes looking back at her. His hair, normally ash brown, now reflected the warm hues of the sunset. "So now that you have seen the city: what are your thoughts?"

Penelo returned her eyes to the city below. "Archades is beautiful," she paused, "And your people: they're really _curious_." She shook her head and chuckled at the last word, and Larsa joined her, his voice deep but soft.

"I am sorry you had to deal with so many reporters in one day," he said, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "I should have taken that into account when I planned the tour."

Penelo shook her head. "No, it's alright. Their curiosity is a good thing," she reassured him, "It shows that their minds are open, right?"

"For some, yes, although for others, tis simply a matter of chops and gil," Larsa sighed. "A chop once held meaning: it signified that the person in possession was an honorable member of society. Sandalwood even moreso; it was rewarded to someone who did a great service to Archadia. Now it seems a chop can only speak of a person's ambition."

"Even so, as long as the story gets told," Penelo tilted her head to get a better view of Larsa's face, and smiled. "The true story, that is."

Larsa's eyes remained focused on the city, lips tight and frowning. "Perhaps you are right."

Penelo nudged him slightly in the arm, catching him off-guard, prying his eyes away from the sunset. "_Perhaps?" _she teased, "I _am_ right. Even if they seek knowledge out of their own ambition, you can use it for good."

Larsa hung his head low as he gazed into his twiddling thumbs, and despite Penelo's reassurance, his eyes still carried the weight of doubt. "Larsa," her stern, yet gentle voice pulled his gaze to her. "I can see your vision for the future, and it's _beautiful_. And I love what you've done with Orbonne. I can see what you're trying to accomplish. Larsa, I think now is the time to do this; your people need to embrace change if they're going to move forward."

Larsa nodded firmly. "You are right in this. However, I know not how to persuade the most stubborn of my people."

"Don't worry about it just yet," Penelo soothed, "You'll figure it out as you go, and I'll be here to help. This is all new to me, and I have _no_ idea what I'm doing, but I'll do everything in my power to help you pass this bill. I believe it's the right thing for Archadia. For all of us, really."

His eyes softened, and his hands finally stilled. "Thank you, Penelo."

**...**

* * *

**...**

Dinner was held in the Imperial dining hall, in honor of Larsa's arrival. Penelo joined Larsa, Basch, and the other Judge Magisters, along with various guards and other palace workers. Without any family, Penelo worried dinners could get lonely for Larsa, but she was relieved to see he was not alone at all. _At least he has Basch. And now he has me, too._

After their meal, the kitchen workers went home, and the guards returned to their positions, relieving those who had taken over for them. Basch had gone off to his chamber on the Judge's floor. "I will be just below the guest level, so I won't be far," he told Penelo, giving her a warm smile and a nod before he left.

After everyone went their separate ways, Larsa took Penelo on a walk down the hallway – slow, with nothing but their voices and their echoed footsteps to fill their ears. They were just finished laughing about what Judge Zargabaath had said about a bad potion he drank once, when Penelo remembered something important. "Hey Larsa," she said, and he answered with a soft hum. "Since I'm here, can you show me your potion collection you used to mention all the time?"

His eyes darted away from her, and he stared off into the hallway in thought. They took a few more steps before he nodded twice, smiling at her. "Of course."

After almost six years of friendship, this was the first time Penelo had the opportunity to see Larsa's potion collection. She had visited the Imperial Palace only once in her life, for Larsa's inauguration, and even that visit was brief, because Vaan insisted she go with him to Salikawood for a hunt right after, and Larsa was busy settling into his new role, anyway. She didn't want to distract him. The only times she saw him after that were at Ashe's coronation and following birthday parties in Rabanastre.

And while she understood he was busy, there was still a part of her that wished he would have invited her over. At least once.

She tried not to let it bother her.

**...**

* * *

**...**

Larsa led her to one of the rooms on the top floor of the palace, and Penelo was faced with a set of double wooden doors, just like the room he had chosen for her. _This room must not have been renovated either, _Penelo thought as Larsa opened the doors.

He reached his hand into the darkness to find a light switch, and Penelo watched as ceiling lights gradually illuminated the room, revealing…

Walls _covered_ in potions.

From floor to ceiling, dark wooden shelves lined the walls, displaying the largest collection of potions – of _anything_ Penelo had ever seen. The room was probably twice as large as hers, yet contained no sitting furniture except for a single cushioned chair in the corner. The floor was dark wood to match the shelves, and decorated with a royal blue rug with gold patterns.

Penelo covered her mouth with her hands "_Wow,"_ she gasped. _If this were a shop, Miguelo would have to make a run for his gil._

There must have been _hundreds_ of potions, all aligned in perfect rows. As Penelo approached the shelves, she could infer that the room was well-maintained, for there wasn't a single speck of dust to be found. Starting from the left side of the room, she walked along each wall of shelves, gazing in awe at the glass bottles that glowed deep blue in the dim light. There was a variety of different items: hi-potions, x-potions, as well as the standard ones. Many of them were unique, as there were multiple sizes of each type. The higher potency and healing power of the potion, the rarer it was in this collection, and yet there were still _dozens_ of x-potions that took up almost half of an entire wall.

But there was more than that.

On the third wall, at the very top shelf, a line of elixirs glowed emerald green. Below was an assortment of items, including phoenix downs, antidotes, serums and more.

Penelo returned to the second wall and reached her hand out towards a hi-potion, but stopped herself before her fingers could touch it. She looked back at Larsa, who still stood by the door, observing her with a warm smile on his face. "May I?" she asked.

"Of course," he permitted, his smile growing into a grin.

Penelo gingerly picked it off the shelf, careful not to knock over any other bottles in the process. She examined the hexagonal bottle, gently turning it in her hand inch-by-inch, the light reflecting against a new edge with each turn. Then, she twisted the knob off, brought the bottle's opening to her nose, and gave it a whiff. The potion smelt slightly of herbs, but it was stale, and on the second whiff, it smelt like dust.

"Wow, these are _old_," she chuckled, closing the bottle.

"Yes," Larsa admitted, "As you can imagine, I have little need for potions as of late."

"I remember when you journeyed with us, on our way to Bur-Omisace," Penelo reminisced, gazing into the liquid through the blue glass. "You would always have a hi-potion ready when someone needed it. You were quick – you got to them way before I did."

"Yes, however, your magicks were far more powerful."

"Sure," Penelo nodded, idly turning the potion in her hands, "But when someone's about to die, I think speed is more important."

"I would keep them from death, but you would maintain their health far longer." He chuckled, "Perhaps what we _can_ agree on, is that you and I made an excellent team."

Penelo nodded, glancing at him. "We did, didn't we?" She gave him a quick smile before returning the hi-potion to its designated spot on the shelf.

Even after years of only communicating through letters once a week, it was so easy to fall back into step with him. It was as though no time had passed at all, and once again they were kids journeying together through the Ozmone Plain with Ashe and the others, on a daunting mission to save Ivalice from devastating war.

Although Penelo supposed they were still trying to save Ivalice now, but perhaps in a more subtle way.

Then, she turned around to look at the fourth wall, and she saw that its shelves did not contain potions, or any other item. Instead, the shelves were lined with books of all different sizes and colors, and they were all organized immaculately, not a single one tilted or out-of-place.

However, in the center was an opening in the shelf, and on the wall behind it hung a portrait of a young woman. As Penelo stepped closer, she saw that half of the woman's ash-brown hair was pulled up to show off her heart-shaped face, and the other half cascaded down her shoulders in long waves.

There was something familiar about her.

She had the roundest eyes Penelo had ever seen – wide and blue like the skies of Archadia. And although she smiled, her wide eyes made her almost look surprised. Her lips, small yet plump and painted red, held a natural smirk, adding a mischievous edge to her smile. Her brows were thin and tapered, and they were highly arched in a way that was strikingly recognizable.

_This woman is so beautiful, _Penelo thought_, she looks like a doll._

Penelo glanced at Larsa, then back to the portrait; their resemblance was uncanny.

Larsa smiled at her, holding his hands behind his back. "Penelo, there is another reason why these potions are outdated," he explained, "They once belonged to my mother."

_His mother._

In all their years together, Larsa never once mentioned her.

"This was her study," he continued, "She spent much of her time here – as I have been told."

"She was beautiful…" Penelo remarked, and her look of awe was replaced with a knowing smile. "I see where you get it from." She spoke that last sentence softly, more to herself than him.

"Pardon?"

_Your good looks,_ she wanted to say, but she wouldn't dare. "Your eyebrows," she offered instead, grinning at him. "They're just like hers."

Larsa chuckled. "Yes," he replied, "My father told me I inherited many aspects of her: her height – or lack thereof, I should say – her eyes, as well as her curious mind. And now I suppose I should add her eyebrows to the list."

"What was her name?"

"Ellissa," he paused, "Ellissa Anne Solidor."

He approached the portrait, joining Penelo's side. "She died," he continued, "shortly after my birth – I was not even a year old. It was an illness that claimed her, or so they say, and yet – no detail beyond that has ever been offered."

Penelo looked at him, and her heart swelled. She at least knew it was the plague that took her parents, and it was the war that took her brothers. How awful must it be for Larsa to not even know how his mother passed away? And when he was only a baby? Just as she was going to say something, _anything_, in an attempt to comfort him, Larsa continued.

"Archades is a city of secrets – with tunnels that run deep into the ground, beyond even my knowledge." He gazed into the portrait with intensity, like it was a map that needed to be deciphered. "I wish it weren't so…"

Penelo wished she could lift the weight of sorrow from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all she could offer.

He shook his head. "Worry not – 'twas long ago."

She was grateful that he was sharing so much of himself – that a man who liked to keep his secrets would trust her with them. However, even though she was grateful, she couldn't help but want to learn _more_.

"Larsa," Penelo gestured to the line of books below the portrait. "Are these yours?"

"They are mine – and hers. I simply added more to her collection. Would you like to borrow one?"

"I would love to," Penelo nodded. "Are there any history books?"

"Yes," there was a pride in Larsa's smile as he nodded firmly. "However, I find that many history books are full of falsehoods, so I am very particular with my choosing of them. Was there a specific area of history you wish to read about?"

Penelo's smile grew into a grin. "Archades."

Larsa looked down as he chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly. "I see the mystery of Archades has enraptured you."

"I just want to learn more about where my best friend is from – that's all."

He brought his gaze up to her, and his eyes studied hers as he thought. His lips curved into a small smirk that matched his mother's. "Alright. However, I must warn you: 'tis not a book for the faint of heart."

Penelo crossed her arms and gave him an equally playful smirk. "I'm sure I can handle it."

"Alright then," Larsa turned to the shelf, eyes scanning the rows of books with fierce concentration, chin in his hand. "Ah, of course," he turned to Penelo, "That particular book isn't here, although I know where it is. Follow me."

He swiftly took her hand in his, catching her by surprise, and led her out the door. She couldn't help but be reminded of the moment they met: when he took her hand and freed her from the Judge who found her wandering the streets of Bhujerba all those years ago. But now his hands were cool to the touch, bare. When did he stop wearing his signature white gloves? What else had changed about him? And what else was she going to learn about him during her stay?

**...**

* * *

**...**

Larsa led her to the top floor of the Imperial Palace, to the very end of the hallway.

He entered a series of numbers on a keypad, prompting the automatic door to open. Penelo followed him through the doorway, and he flicked the light switch, revealing a bedroom.

To the left was a bed even larger than hers, neatly made, with covers as deep blue as the ocean. Just under the window was a long wooden desk, covered in orderly stacks of paper, along with a pen and ink. The floors were carpet, a much more muted blue than the bedcovers. Across from them was a single bookshelf no larger than the average door. The walls were white, and surprisingly plain.

"Larsa," her voice was timid as her eyes scanned the area. "Is this your room?"

"Yes," he answered with a small smile, then gestured to the bed, "please have a seat." He left her side to walk over to the book shelf.

Penelo walked over to the bed and gently sat down, afraid to wrinkle the immaculate coverlet. She ran her hand along the soft fibres, proceeding to trace the pattern stitched in light blue. With her index finger, she followed the thread through the twisting bodies of the House Solidor serpents and onto the winding stems of the vines, intertwined in one large elaborate web. Everything was connected.

Just like Archades.

Everyone had to know someone, or something about someone, to get into the city – legally, of course. Even now, it was her connections with Larsa and Ashe that had threaded Penelo into the network of nobility and politics.

"Here it is," Larsa announced as he finally approached her, holding up a book not much larger than his own hands. "I found it in my mother's collection shortly after my inauguration."

Penelo held the book gingerly, for the cover looked worn and the binding fragile. The beige cover was thick, but its edges had softened with time and use. Debossed yet uncoloured, was the title: _The Truth of the Matter. _Near the bottom, debossed in small letters was the author's credited name: I.

It was a common family name in Rabanastre.

"Durai?" Penelo squinted at the name, "A Dalmascan wrote this?"

"I doubt a Dalmascan would have the information the book contains. 'Tis an alias, I am sure."

"_Mysterious_," she remarked, placing the book on her lap.

Larsa shrugged. "Revealing dark truths is a dangerous task – dangerous enough that the book was banned in all areas of the Empire. It is considered illegal to possess it, and the author, whoever they are, is still wanted for crimes against Archadia."

_What did they write about Archadia that was so awful?_

"Wait, so the Emperor himself owns a banned book?" Penelo let out a mock gasp. "How _scandalous. _What would the people of Archadia think?"

Larsa smirked. "'Tis only a scandal if they know of it."

"Don't worry, I'll keep your secret," Penelo narrowed her eyes. "But as Emperor, aren't you Head of the Ministry of Law? Aren't you the last person who should be _breaking_ the Law?"

"I believe there are laws that can and should be changed. And as Emperor, it is in my power and responsibility to do so."

_Typical Larsa._

Penelo chuckled. "I agree," she said, proceeding to look down at the book. She opened it to the first page, but before she could begin reading, Larsa reached over and closed the book gently.

"I would advise that you do not read such heavy burdens before bedtime," he warned, "Your mind will keep you up all night if you do."

Penelo looked into his eyes, remembering the dark circles that used to be under them, and knew he was speaking from experience. "If you say so," she nodded, placing the book aside.

"I have a different story in mind to share with you tonight," he said, and his eyes perked up again. He swiftly returned to the shelf and picked up a book that was lying on its side. "_The History of Landisian Cuisine_ is my latest read. Ever since Basch introduced me to the food of his homeland, I have yet to quell my curiosity."

He opened the book to a page that was marked. "The History of the Meat Pie," he began, and Penelo listened to him tell the tale of The Republic of Landis in the year 502, during the coldest winter ever recorded at the time. He told it with joy in his heart, holding the book in front of himself as he sauntered the room in circles.

His voice was smooth like calm waters of a still ocean – an ocean that would match his bed covers, Penelo thought. The fabric beneath her felt softer than ever, and her body seemed to feel heavier by the second. She _wanted_ to hear more, especially when it was Larsa's calming tenor voice regaling her with stories of family and togetherness, but she was just so _tired,_ so tired that she could…

She could…

**...**

* * *

**...**

It had been a long day indeed, but Larsa didn't want it to end. He wanted to continue talking to his best friend, to show her the city he loved so much, despite its flaws. Not to mention he certainly didn't want to return to his work tomorrow.

So he told Penelo the story of a creative and resourceful Landisian woman who invented a new recipe using the very limited ingredients she could muster in the Great Winter of Old Valendia 502. It was his favorite so far in this book, as it told a tale of creativity and perseverance, and surely Penelo would appreciate it, surely-

He turned around and saw Penelo lying on her left side, _The Truth of the Matter_ cradled in her hands, and her eyes were very much closed.

"Penelo?" he called.

The only reply he got was a soft snore from Penelo's nose.

It took all he had not to burst out laughing. Larsa's body shook with each chuckle he choked out, and he buried his face in the book. He shook his head against the pages, cheeks warm from pent up laughter. He closed the book, returning it to the shelf.

Leave it to him to bore a girl to sleep. He wasn't the most exciting person, after all. Not a dashing sky pirate like Balthier or Vaan, free to soar through the skies, discovering new treasures and delivering vigilante justice, no. He was a simple man, really – a workaholic who spent day and night laboring over piles of paperwork, listening to complaints from Senators and civilians alike, all under the heavy burden of the Empire. And what little time he had to spare for himself he spent buried in books about history, of all things. Not exciting enough for a woman like Penelo.

But perhaps he was jumping to conclusions. It _was _a long day, and most likely Penelo was simply exhausted. Yes, he would go with that scenario.

Larsa turned to glance at Penelo again. However, once his eyes were on her, his gaze lingered, and his heart began to thump in his chest. She was always beautiful – more than anyone in all of Ivalice. No matter how weary from travel, and apparently, no matter that she snored.

He stepped closer.

Many people have said that Queen Ashelia was the most beautiful woman in Dalmasca. Although Larsa would agree that her strong, yet elegant features were desirable, her beauty didn't make his heart pound the way Penelo's did. She was soft, gentle, with a smile that was loving and forgiving – a ray of light in a storm of uncertainty.

This was especially so when she was asleep. In the light of the bedside lamp, her golden locks and sun-kissed skin seemed to glow, like fully-charged sunstones from the Giza Plains. Long lashes curtained over relaxed eyes, and her lips, smooth and pink, were curved into a small smile.

This wasn't right – it was impolite to stare. He ought to escort her back to her room.

Larsa approached the bed and kneeled so his eyes were closer to her level. "Penelo?" he called gently, and when she did not stir, he called her again, "_Penelo_."

Her eyes burst open, and for a second he could tell that she had no recognition of where she was. "Larsa?" her voice was confused, and soft from sleep.

"If the room I chose for you is not to your liking, you could have told me," he teased.

He could see on her face the moment she recollected what had happened. She bolted up, her hands covering her flushed cheeks. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" she apologized frantically. "I – I should go to bed now," she swiftly got off the bed, grabbing the book as she stood. "I'm so sorry Larsa – goodnight!"

She turned around so quickly, Larsa didn't have a chance to respond. She was almost at the door when he called to her, "Penelo, wait," and she obliged. "Allow me to escort you to your room at least," he offered, and when she turned to look at him, her face was still pink. "Please," he said, holding his elbow out, offering his arm for her as he did during their tour.

"Okay," she agreed, taking his arm, and he led her out the door.

...

* * *

...

Larsa opened one of the doors to her room and turned on the lights with a flick of the switch.

"Are you sure you will be alright?" he asked, "Is there anything you need before I go?"

Penelo shook her head. "I'll be fine, Larsa – thank you for being such a good host," she reassured him with a smile, "I had a lot of fun today."

Larsa's shoulders lowered as he sighed. "That is good to hear; I am glad. Penelo – I have a meeting with the Senate tomorrow morning, and I will be buried in paperwork all day, so you might not see me until dinner." His lips fell into a frown.

Penelo shook her head, smiling. "That's okay." She would have to fare without him tomorrow. While the idea made her nervous, she didn't expect him to be any less than absolutely busy.

"You should explore the city further during your stay," Larsa suggested, "You will find that there is much to learn about my people as there is for them to learn about Dalmasca. See how far the exchanging of information can take you."

"Okay," Penelo nodded firmly, "will do."

"You ought to get some rest – it was a long day," he said, "and you are… obviously exhausted." When his smile was accompanied by a quick lift of his brow, the mortification of her earlier slumber returned, and Penelo blushed. How could she have been so careless?

Larsa sighed again. "I shall take my leave now," his eyes darted to the door, then to the floor, avoiding her. "Goodnight, Penelo." He shot a quick smile at her and started heading towards the door before she could even respond.

"Wait," she called, and he stopped in his tracks, reluctantly turning around to face her again.

She approached him until she could see a rippling ocean in his wide eyes. "_Goodnight to you too,"_ she said, her brows lifted in judgement of his shyness. Then, her face relaxed into a smile. "Thank you for everything, Larsa. You know, one thing about this job I'm really grateful for is that it's given me a chance to reconnect with you. So much has changed; I'm glad our friendship hasn't."

The tension in his eyes melted at her words. "I am grateful for that as well. Penelo, I truly meant it when I said that I missed you."

Penelo felt warm from his words, her heart once again ignoring her plea to stay calm at the sight of his smile. "I'll see you tomorrow," She pulled him into a firm embrace, burying her face into the silk shirt on his shoulder.

Larsa's hands were hesitant, hovering over her back before he returned her embrace fully. Penelo relaxed at his touch, firm and protective as his thumb gently stroked her shoulder blade.

It was a relief, she found, that his heart was beating as fast as hers.

**...**

* * *

**...**

_Dear Ashe,_

_I have landed safely in Archades. Larsa took me on a tour of the city, including the new district, Orbonne, where many Landisians have made a new home for themselves. There is also a new marketplace, and it reminded me of Muthru._

_So many reporters asked me questions about Dalmasca, and the reasons for why I am here. I would like to answer their questions, but I need something clarified first: what am I allowed to disclose to the public? I think we were too caught up in last night's festivities to cover those details of my assignment. Larsa suggests I should be careful with my words, and I have been so far._

_This city has a lot of history, much that I don't know, I admit, and most of the citizens are hesitant to change. However, I think they have a lot of potential for growth, and the curiosity is there, at least._

_Thank you again for the opportunity. I will keep you updated as promised._

_With Warm Regards,_

_Penelo_

_..._

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed!**


	6. Rumors

**_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who left a comment last chapter! _**

* * *

**6\. Rumors**

_..._

_Archades is a city of secrets._

_There is an unspoken game we play here – a game of knowledge and power. A simple concept: the more knowledge one possesses, the more powerful he becomes. However, there is a danger in this: when one desires all power for himself, knowledge is hoarded, never to be shared with the world, and society is shrouded in ignorance. Secrets form, trust is lost, and men turn against each other._

_Today I have chosen to relinquish my power; the dark truths of this place must be released._

_Thus, a warning: In this book, the truth, in all of its unfortunate, heinous glory, will not be withheld._

_ – DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"_

...

* * *

...

Penelo gingerly placed the book down on the vanity dresser in her room.

_Archades is a city of secrets._

Larsa had quoted the book when he told Penelo about his mother's mysterious death. Ellissa Anne Solidor… she was so young when she passed.

But how did the late empress die? And how would Larsa die? She preferred not to think of it. Hopefully, Larsa would pass many years from now, old and gray in his sleep – not young like his mother, or by force like his father.

Sitting in front of the mirror, Penelo brushed her hair absently as she mulled over yesterday's events: visiting Tsenoble and Orbonne, the dance, the reporters, the rumors…

_Alas, the Emperor is falling ill _

_His life will end before he writes his will_

The ominous message had been a frequent intrusive thought ever since the reporter from Tsenoble, Joras Rickard, asked Larsa if he had taken a break from his duties due to an illness. Perhaps he had heard the rumor, too.

Penelo shook her head; she shouldn't think too much about this. Larsa told her to think nothing of the rumor, and she understood why. After all, there were probably dozens of gossip columnists out there fabricating stories about Larsa irresponsibly partying in Dalmasca to escape his duties.

"Pfft," Penelo chuckled._ He would never do that, _she thought as she proceeded to separate her hair into three even sections to begin a side braid.

_And just as those stories are false, this probably is, too. Calm down, Penelo._

Her thoughts about the rumors were gladly interrupted by a gentle knock at the door.

Penelo quickly tied her braid with a red rubber band before getting up to see who it was.

She was pleasantly surprised to see Basch, or rather, Judge Gabranth, donned in full armor. "Good morning," Penelo greeted him with a smile, "come in." She waved him in and closed the door behind him.

Basch removed his helmet, revealing blonde hair and a soft smile. "Good morning, Penelo," he greeted, "I trust you slept well?"

She nodded once. "Yes I did. Thank you, Basch." She glanced at the bed behind her. "That's just about the most comfortable bed I've ever slept on," she chuckled.

"I am glad you had your rest; I only wish I could say the same for Larsa."

Penelo's heart sank. "He didn't sleep last night?" She mentally scolded herself for not reminding him to drink the cactoid flower tea he bought at Muthru.

Basch shook his head. "Nay – not more than a half-night's rest. He is a busy man," he attempted, but Penelo found no relief in the excuse. With his free hand, Basch retrieved an envelope from his leather satchel. "He sent me here to apologize on his behalf for not giving you this information yesterday," he said, handing her the envelope.

Penelo flipped open the unsealed envelope. "Thank you," she said, removing the paper inside to see the familiar strokes of Larsa's elegant cursive script.

_._

_Penelo,_

_I apologize for failing to inform you of this last night. Breakfast and lunch are served every morning and midday in the kitchen. I have already notified the chef of your arrival (his name is Simon. Please do say hello to him for me) and you are welcome to stop by the kitchen should you find yourself hungry. I have asked Basch to escort you, for I also failed to take you on a proper tour of the palace. There is never enough time in the world, is there? Please forgive me – or not. That is entirely your choice. Whichever you decide, you can tell me tonight at dinner._

_Your Friend Who Is Sorry,_

_Larsa_

_._

Penelo chuckled softly. For a serious guy, Larsa could be funny sometimes. He was never trying to be, though.

"He also instructed me to give you this," Basch said, handing her another paper envelope, this one more bulky than the other. She opened the envelope to find five thin blocks of wood, freshly cut and polished. "The possession of five Sandalwood chops marks you a member of the gentry class. In addition to the privileges available to ardents, this grants you access to any and all privileges exclusive to the gentry class, including access to spaces such as Central."

_Five sandalwood chops? Me… gentry? Just like that?_

A gasp escaped Penelo's lips. "This is…a _lot_."

It was difficult enough to acquire _one_ sandalwood chop, let alone five. How someone could possess five sandalwood chops without some help was beyond her knowing. From what Larsa had told her, all children born into gentry families are simply given the sandalwood from their parents who possessed a surplus.

"These are no ordinary sandalwood," Basch continued, "'Tis a rare type granted exclusively to either government workers, or members of the ruling House. This allows you unsupervised access to the Imperial Palace."

Penelo flipped the sandalwood over in her palm to see the twin serpents that represented House Solidor.

"What you hold is the number one desire of every citizen in this city; I would advise you hide them well," Basch warned. "Larsa has suggested I assign a member of the Imperial Guard to protect you, at your request."

As a foreign ambassador living in the empire that once terrorized her country, Penelo would feel safer guarded. However, the thought of an Archadian judge fully covered in that metal armor, always behind her, always watching- reminded her too much of the past. If it were Basch, she would be fine with that, but a stranger…

After a moment of hesitation, Penelo answered. "No, that's alright. I'm sure I'll be fine," she nodded.

Basch accepted her answer with a smile. "As you wish. I remember from our journey with Her Majesty that you are more than capable of handling yourself. Do you still practice your magicks?"

"I do!" Penelo nodded firmly. She didn't get to practice as often as she liked, although she was grateful there wasn't much reason to these days.

Basch escorted her to the kitchen to have breakfast, and she entertained him with stories of several hunts she went on with Vaan, her progress with her troupe, as well as how much she enjoyed the Landisian-style meat pies in Orbonne.

It felt good to have a chance to catch up with him. Basch was a kind and true man – it was comforting to know that he was always around to protect Larsa.

...

* * *

...

Larsa _tried_ to sleep. He really did, but with the upcoming meeting with the Senate looming over his thoughts, how could he?

How would he re-introduce his bill after the disaster of the last meeting? Could he deliver it with just as much confidence, knowing Senator Caine and the Chairman were already against it? And what of the others?

So far, to his relief, Senator Rhys had accepted every policy Larsa had introduced since his inauguration, so there would be little to convince. And although Willmundt had not voiced support, he hadn't spoken against the bill, either, and he had been a friend to House Solidor for several decades now, so persuading him shouldn't be too difficult.

However, the Senate Leaders weren't the only people Larsa had to worry about; there was also the entire twenty-four member Senate body to consider.

Would they accept it? Nay, not without a fight. Would they spend an entire month arguing over it? Most likely.

Or perhaps his fears would come true, and the bill would split the Senate in two. Were his dreams of a better Archades fated to die on the Senate floor this very day? Was he a fool to have introduced the bill in the first place? Was he a fool to dream? Many would think so.

_Vayne would. Father would. And likely the entire Senate does._

His heart was pounding harder in his chest now, and it reminded him to slow down and _breathe_. It had been like this since he awoke abruptly after only a few hours of sleep, without even a nightmare for explanation. And unfortunately, once he was awake, there was no returning to sleep. Since then he had been tossing and turning, restless, his mind refusing to silence.

_I should have had the tea last night. _

Accepting his sleepless fate, Larsa got out of bed, thinking to make use of his time and get some work done.

After a few hours of going through paperwork in his office, it was time to pick up breakfast. If sleep wouldn't rejuvenate his body, he relied on food more than ever.

He made his way down a hallway on the ground floor of the palace, heading towards the kitchen, the light of dawn hitting his face with each window he passed. From a distance, he could see an oncoming figure, and as he got closer, he recognized the smug smile of Senator Bacchus Caine.

"Your Excellency!" the senator greeted, his booming baritone resonating throughout the hall. It was too early for this. How did Caine always have such boundless energy with not only his Senate duties to attend to, but a business to run as well? _I ought to ask what his secret is._

Although a bit irritated, Larsa greeted him with a polite smile nonetheless. "Good morning, Senator Caine. How are you?"

The senator stopped in front of Larsa, his gaze at level with his – Caine was one of the few men who wasn't taller than him, and that was his only redeeming factor. No, no, that wasn't true – he also showed up to meetings on time. Punctuality was important.

Larsa disliked admitting that after five years, he had yet to learn much about Senator Caine. As Emperor, he ought to know more about the Senators he worked with, but there was so little time in the day, and so many people to see – an excuse that never felt adequate to Larsa, and perhaps he should make a better effort.

However, Larsa did know this much: After the death of Senator Felix Ghys in 702, Caine was elected into the Senate, under former Chairman Gregoroth's approval. Curious, Larsa found nothing of the new Senator's lineage, and it was frustrating to no end. To the best of his knowledge, there was no House Caine; no living relatives to speak of, or connections to the government.

It was as though the man appeared out of _nowhere_.

Larsa also knew that the senator owned a successful liquor business in Archades, with locations in each district. Caine was courageous, never afraid to voice his opinion in meetings – even if he _was_ interrupting someone else.

There was always something unsettling about the Senator's smile – perhaps because it was, in actuality, a smirk. "I am most well, my lord, especially knowing that you have returned home safely from your vacation," he answered, "You seem to be in much better health – perhaps you should flee to Dalmasca more often?"

_Flee? He must have read that in a paper._

Larsa's smile wavered. He refused to allow Caine to twist the truth. "I did not _flee_, and it was no vacation – but thank you for your concern over my health, Senator. And if you will excuse me, I shall see you at the meeting."

He really should be more careful with his tone when speaking to Caine. It would be beneficial in trying to persuade him to vote in favor of the bill. However, perhaps there was no use; after all, Caine had already called it "extreme."

Perhaps once Larsa had breakfast his mood would lighten. He looked away from the senator's raised brows and stepped around him, continuing his walk down the hall. After a few steps, he heard Caine's voice again. "You must introduce me to your friend," he said, and Larsa immediately turned around to see the senator's smirk, the glint in his eyes reminding him of a hungry coeurl. "Ambassador Penelo of Dalmasca, correct? When shall I meet her? I hear she is… quite the charmer."

It was too early for this.

A mild anger ignited in Larsa's veins, incinerating his pretence of courtesy. He felt a scowl pull at his lips, and he quickly turned around before the senator could see it. "You are too old for her," he deadpanned, and proceeded to walk as far away from him as possible.

"My lord, you are most cruel!" Senator Caine cried dramatically; the echoes of his voice were followed by his own amused laughter.

...

* * *

_..._

_What am I doing here?_ Penelo asked herself for what seemed like the millionth time since she arrived in Archades. _What is an ambassador supposed to do, exactly?_

She felt lost, walking aimlessly through the streets of Tsenoble with nothing to do but listen to aircabs fly overhead and gentry men and women gossip as they read their morning papers.

_The papers,_ Penelo thought; that was where she could start. An ambassador should know the current events of the land she was visiting, right?

She followed a crowd to where they were lining up at a newsstand for _The Tsenoble Report_.

"Lord Larsa returns from his vacation in Dalmasca! Read all about it!" shouted one of the newsboys behind the stand. "His Excellency returns with Dalmascan Ambassador – exclusive story with _The Tsenoble Report_!"

_I'm in the paper?_ Penelo thought, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She wondered if it was the article Joras was writing – actually, she feared it. That reporter seemed keen on twisting the truth. After picking up a copy for ten gil, she began to read.

.

**EMPEROR LARSA RETURNS WITH DALMASCAN AMBASSADOR**

By Joras Rickard

It was a shock to many citizens of Archades when Chairman Garamondt of the Senate announced three days ago that Emperor Larsa Solidor abruptly fled from the Senate Chambers to go on a weekend holiday in Rabanastre. However, to those following the rumors stating that His Excellency's health has been declining, it was of no surprise that he should take a few days of rest.

A trip to Dalmasca had proven beneficial, as Lord Larsa appeared to be in good health upon returning to Archades yesterday afternoon. "I am well," His Excellency assured.

Lord Larsa claims his visit had other reasons beyond rest and relaxation, but also that of leisure and diplomacy. Wishing Her Royal Highness Queen Ashelia of Dalmasca a happy birthday was a top priority. "She and her country are doing well," said His Excellency, "and I hope to maintain our good standing with them."

In addition to reconnecting with the Queen of Dalmasca, Lord Larsa has also tightened bonds with best friend Penelo of Rabanastre, who has recently been appointed Ambassador of Dalmasca. It is known that the Council of Ivalice will be hosted in Archades this year, in Lord Brutias Rhys's Barbanas Theatre. It is apparent that Ambassador Penelo is the newest addition to the Council, however when inquired about her presence here in Archades, Lord Larsa declined to clarify. "Penelo has been sent here by Queen Ashe on a temporary assignment, the details of which cannot be disclosed at this time," His Excellency said, "But I can assure you: it is with the intention of furthering the peace between our nations."

One can only wonder what Lord Larsa and Queen Ashe have planned, and it is with great enthusiasm that members of _the Report_ investigate this story as it progresses.

.

_Hmm,_ Penelo thought. _He failed to mention that Larsa said those rumors about him being sick are false, but whatever. And I see he's still going with the narrative that Larsa ran away from his responsibilities to party it up in Rabanastre. Pfft._

Unwilling to read more fabrications of the truth, Penelo folded the paper and stuffed it in her bag before continuing her walk. She was grateful the article didn't have any descriptions of her appearance, because she really didn't feel like answering the questions that would inevitably follow her.

Thankfully, it was much easier for Penelo to blend into the crowd when she didn't have the _Emperor_ attached to her arm.

Yesterday, she was eyed with looks of curiosity and envy; today she was hardly noticed at all. She only got a few looks, mainly directed at her obviously Dalmascan fashion choice of loose pants that cuffed at the ankles. Although it was uncomfortable to stand out, she was here to represent her country. _I'll wear my poofy pants proudly, thank you very much._

Even so – she was still curious about Archadian fashion, and Tsenoble had plenty of boutiques to look through.

Penelo searched her memory for every street of every district Larsa took her on their tour, and she found the boutique she had her eye on yesterday. Augustia's Gowns stood in the middle of a line of shops just past the residential towers with the balcony gardens. Penelo stopped to admire the three gowns on display at the window – each long, formal, and exceptionally stunning. Most likely she couldn't afford anything in there, and she was used to that – but that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to enjoy _looking_.

When she opened the dark wooden door, a soft bell chime was triggered, announcing her arrival. The boutique wasn't very large, and there wasn't a lot of merchandise inside, which could only mean one thing: each dress must have been incredibly expensive. Feeling uncomfortable and out-of-place, Penelo regretted ever walking in and wanted to leave immediately – except she found herself drawn to a glint from the corner of her eye. Near the far-right wall of the store, displayed high on a platform, was a turquoise floor-length evening gown.

As much as she appreciated the bold red of the Galbana lily, Penelo had a weakness for turquoise. It reminded her of the calm waters of the Nebra, and the days she would spend there with her family.

She approached the dress, like a moth to a flame.

The turquoise dye flowed across the dress in a gradient – starting deep at the skirts hem, and then fading towards the straps, where it was almost white.

It was a two-piece dress: a popular style in the Archadian summer. Penelo reached out, daring to touch the skirts to feel the soft fabric. _Smooth – must be silk. _The bodice hugged the mannequin's ribs, and was decorated with pale gold rhinestones that travelled all the way up the straps.

Fitted at the waist, the skirt widened as it cascaded down in loose folds. _Perfect for dancing. _Rhinestones were placed on the skirt as well, reflecting the boutique's warm light as Penelo stepped around the mannequin. The stones created a gradient that opposed the turquoise one: condensed at the top, then sprinkling down to the bottom like raindrops.

A shimmering ocean in the form of a dress – it was truly a masterpiece.

"'Tis a one-of-a-kind, that one," a woman said behind her.

Startled, Penelo spun around to see a thin, middle-aged woman wearing a violet dress with gold accents. Her auburn hair shined as she craned her neck to regard the gown. "It took me a month to finish," she said, her eyes gleaming with pride.

"You're the seamstress?" Penelo asked, and she turned around, returning her gaze to the gown. "It's beautiful; you did an amazing job."

_A seamstress._

Penelo's mother was a seamstress. A long time ago.

A memory flashed in Penelo's mind: of her mother at the kitchen table, glowing in the morning sunlight as she sewed sequins onto a skirt for a local dancer. Her mother was a proper lady, polite and demure, yet she never stopped Penelo from roughhousing with her brothers.

This woman in front of her – thin, delicate, and a vision in violet – reminded Penelo of her mother. The seamstress chuckled, soft and sweet. "Your accent is charming; where are you from, my dear?"

"I'm from Rabanastre."

The seamstress' eyes lit up. "Really? A Dalmascan, are you?" she said, "I once visited Rabanastre when Vayne Solidor was consul. Beautiful desert landscape, I must say. I designed a dress inspired by it once – sold for twice the price of that one." Penelo glanced back to the turquoise dress before returning her eyes to the seamstress, who was gazing dreamily at the dress as she recalled her past work. "It was gold, like the Estersand, made of fine Dalmascan silk and expertly cut topaz. 'Tis a shame Dalmasca is no longer a territory of the Empire; with the tariffs Lord Gramis had placed on all imports, I'm afraid it would be far too costly to make such a dress now."

The seamstress gestured to the turquoise dress with a nod. "This one here was inspired by the Naldoan Sea."

Penelo marvelled at the shimmering rhinestones once more. "I can see how."

"Forgive me, I have forgotten my manners – I am Augustia," Penelo turned to see the woman's outstretched hand and friendly smile.

She shook the seamstress's delicate hand. "Penelo," she offered, "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." After letting go, Augustia clasped her hands together and grinned at Penelo as though she were an exciting new project. "Penelo, I must say: with your blonde hair, and those marvellous honey eyes of yours, this dress would look stunning on you. It would be as though the waters of the Naldoan Sea met the sparkling sands of the shoreline. I see a gorgeous color palette in the making. Please," she gestured to the dress, "do try it on."

"A-Are you sure?" Penelo didn't even think a gown this extravagant would be available to try on.

Augustia nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes!" she urged, promptly leading Penelo to the fitting room.

Several minutes later, Augustia finished clasping the back of the dress, and took a few steps back to take a good look at Penelo.

Augustia gasped. "'Tis as though the Phon Coast stood before me in the form of an Empress!"

Penelo turned to look at herself in the fitting room mirror. She hardly recognized herself – she looked beautiful, confident, and important. _This_ was the Penelo that Larsa was searching for in Rabanastre; _this_ was the Penelo Ashe had appointed Ambassador.

Too bad this reflection wasn't her. She was a fraud – a Lowtown street dancer in Ambassador's clothing.

However, the dress fit almost perfectly, and the colors _did_ go well with her features, she had to admit. She turned to admire the dress from all angles, swaying her hips to see how the skirts billowed freely. _Definitely good for dancing._

Penelo wished she could paint an image of herself in the dress, because she would probably never see herself wear it ever again.

"Penelo," Augustia pressed, "This dress was made for you; you simply must have it."

"Oh, I – I shouldn't," Penelo shook her head.

Augustia, however, didn't let that weaken her resolve. "Of course you can," she insisted, "And might I say, after seeing you: I cannot allow anyone else to wear it."

"It's just – I'm here to work, not to have fun."

"Truly?" Augustia inquired, "What manner of work?"

"I'm an ambassador working for Queen Ashelia Dalmasca, here to help with preparations for this year's Council of Ivalice." _More like to help end the Chop System, but she doesn't need to know that._

Augustia nodded twice. "Oh your Queen must be paying you well, then."

"Yes, she is, but-"

"Then you _must_ treat yourself, Penelo," she said, her spirit unwavering. "With your recent promotion, you most certainly deserve it."

Well, she _was_ giving up a month of her life in Rabanastre to live in the Empire, of all places.

Penelo looked at her reflection again. Seeing the rhinestones glistening in the warm lamplight made her think of all the dresses her mother had sewn. _Mom would have loved to see me wear a dress like this._

"I don't know… it _is_ a lot of money."

At the sight of Penelo's doubtful expression, Augustia nodded, her chin in hand. "I have an idea," her voice cut in, prompting Penelo to face her. "A partnership, if you will. You wear that gown where everyone can see you, tell them I made it, and I will cut the price in half."

Penelo's heart almost stopped.

_Half?_

She looked down at the price tag, calculating the final price. She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a gasp. _That's a steal._

"After all, your Queen certainly thinks you would make an excellent ambassador."

First, she was made an ambassador of a country, and now an ambassador of Augustia's Gowns?

_What am I getting myself into?_

Penelo took another look at herself in the mirror.

_Perhaps it couldn't hurt to fit in more… it would show the Archadian people that Dalmasca is interested in making friends. Fashion could lead the way in the new trade deal…_

"Should this go well," Augustia continued, "I can sign you on to model more dresses after, and you would be able to keep those dresses, free of charge. Now, if you agree to move forward, all I need is proof of your title."

_The Sandalwood._

Penelo grabbed her shoulder bag from the chair, opened it, and carefully pulled out the package Basch had given her. "Will this do?"

At the sight of five sandalwood chops, Augustia's grin gleamed as though she were a sky pirate discovering the rarest of treasures. "Absolutely."

...

* * *

...

Not wanting to spend too much money after splurging on a Tsenoble boutique dress, Penelo decided to go down to the lower districts for lunch.

She felt uncomfortable – she may as well have carried a large sack of gil down the busy streets of Trant. Her eyes looked down, guilty, at the shiny boutique shopping bag she carried on her left arm. She really shouldn't have spent her money so carelessly; beautiful as it was, she really didn't _need_ the dress. Perhaps it wasn't too late to return it and withdraw from the partnership. She could just turn around now, and –

She put a pause to her thoughts when she caught sight of a newsstand for _the Trant Tribune._

_I'll pick up a paper first._

After purchasing her paper for five gil, Penelo scanned the Tribune's contents. Unsurprisingly, the front page also told the story of Larsa's return, including her presence here as ambassador. She flipped the pages, past the politics, weather, dining, business and fashion. At the end of the paper was a section dedicated to rumors that were submitted anonymously, as well as readers' letters to the editor.

The rumor about Larsa was printed among them.

"Ugh, I can't believe they're spreading these rumors!" she said aloud.

"It surprises me not," a man said to her, "Those reporters will take any scrap of information they can gather just to have a story ready by the morning. A stressful business, I hear. I have no envy for the lot of them."

Penelo finally tore her eyes away from the rumors to look upon the man reading a paper next to her. He was relatively young, no older than his early thirties, with umber hair clipped much shorter than most Archadian men. Dressed plainly, he must have been an ardent.

"It must suck when there's absolutely nothing interesting going on," Penelo added.

His eyes piqued with interest. "Pardon me, but – are you from Dalmasca?"

Penelo wondered how many times she would be asked that question during her stay. "Yes," she nodded.

The man grinned. "I thought you might be," he said, "I recognize your accent."

"You've been there?"

"Yes," he nodded enthusiastically. "While I was in the Imperial Army I was deployed to Rabanastre for nearly a year. Absolutely beautiful city, it is, especially so at sunset – although it could go without the heat."

Penelo's shoulders tensed. This man might have been one of the many soldiers who stood at every corner of the city, always watching, controlling… and sparking fear in her family, friends, as well as herself. When she spoke next, her voice was timid. "What was your… assignment there, if you don't mind me asking?"

His smile faded. "My duty… was to keep the citizens in line, and shut down any small signs of rebellion. I… cannot say it was my proudest moment."

It was just as she thought. However, what she didn't expect was how regretful he would look.

"What is your name, miss?"

"Penelo."

His eyes widened. "Are you the ambassador they mentioned in the _Tribune_?"

Word certainly got around quickly in this town. "Yes," Penelo nodded.

"I am Markas," he introduced himself to her with a firm handshake. "Ambassador Penelo – I just wanted to say, that I am deeply sorry for any mistreatment your people endured under Archadian rule, at the hands of Imperial Soldiers… including myself. At the time, we were simply following orders. We thought the fear of losing our titles and chops was enough to justify what we did, but it was not. There is never any justification for the mistreatment of others – I know this now."

There was no deceit in his eyes or his tone – only sorrow and guilt. She didn't know what to say.

"Ambassador Penelo, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I must get going. I hope you enjoy your time here in Archades."

"It was nice to meet you too, Markas – and thank you for your words."

He was just following orders; all soldiers were. The Archadians worked with the threat of losing everything looming over their heads if they refused: their jobs, their reputation, their livelihood. The practical side of Penelo understood that well. There were times in her life when she was willing to do almost anything to put food on the table.

But still, she wasn't willing to hurt anyone.

All she could do was stand there, stunned. She didn't know if she was supposed to forgive him or not.

As her thoughts spiralled, the dress felt lighter in her arm, forgotten.

...

* * *

...

As midday approached, Penelo found herself settling down at _The Pineward_, a popular new tavern located in Orbonne.

It was a charming tavern, although a bit cramped, likely due to the fact it was the only tavern in the new district. Dim amber light from magicite lamps reflected off the pinewood-lined walls, giving the area a relaxed atmosphere.

Chatter, laughter, and soft mutterings filled Penelo's ears, and it almost sounded like she was back at _the Sandsea_. Except now those voices spoke in Archadian and Landisian accents, and there were no snorts of a seeq, no snickers of a bangaa or soft hums of a viera – not even a moogle's "kupo!" And with the absence of those voices, she was starting to miss home.

"I'll have one cockatrice sandwich," Penelo told the tavernmaster, "and an ice tea." Leaning against the bar with her chin resting on her clasped hands, she spun in her barstool side to side as she waited. From the corner of her eye, she saw a man who had been sitting at the far left side of the bar get up and sit in the barstool beside her.

The man held a beer bottle out to her, displaying the logo printed on it: **BACCHUS**. "Have you tried this brand? Apparently a Senator owns it," he shook his head, chuckling. "I wonder what crossed the Chairman's mind when electing that one. What has become of the Senate these days?" He took a swig. "Good ale though, I must say."

His accent sounded as though it had left Archadia long ago, and there was a familiar playfulness in his tone that could charm anyone. Penelo turned to look at the man. Colorful rings adorned his fingers and ears, and his white shirt was freshly pressed.

"Balthier?" Penelo gasped.

"Now I _heard_ Dalmasca's newly appointed ambassador was here in Archades, but I thought it was nothing more than gossip," The sky pirate greeted her with a warm, familiar smile. "What in _Ivalice_ are you doing here, Penelo?"

"What am _I_ doing here? I could ask you the same." She didn't expect to see him in Archades, of all places. From what he had shared of his past, it seemed he had no intentions of going back – with the exception of helping a certain princess stop a potential war, of course. _There must be a good reason._

"You could," he said, "and I would answer, but it would cost you."

She scoffed. "Even for a friend?"

"A friend in Archades I can trust?" he reached for his beer, bringing the bottle to his lips. "A rare occurrence; I should count myself lucky," he said before taking a swig.

"Well then, if you trust me, you can tell me anything."

He raised a finely-groomed brow at her. "Likewise."

Penelo surrendered, smiling. "You've made a point."

"Well then, friend, are you going to answer my question or not?"

Balthier _was_ her friend – more than that, he was family. After all, she considered Vaan her brother, and he and Vaan were officially a couple now: two pirates sharing one sky. She would have to tell him. "Okay. Ashe sent me here on an assignment – but I don't think she wants anyone to know any details yet."

"Hmph, a half-truth," Balthier looked away from her, his lips frowning. "And here I thought you would be different than those politicians. You disappoint me."

Balthier held his chin up dramatically and looked away from her, a mock cold shoulder, to which Penelo scoffed. "Come on, Balthier, it's not that I don't _want_ to tell you."

"Of course," he said, although his tone indicated he didn't accept her excuse. "You wouldn't want to upset Her Royal Highness, would you? Oh well, I suppose I'll leave it alone then…"

Penelo sighed. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to get in trouble."

"You never were the type to get into trouble, were you? I knew pirating wasn't your gig." Balthier teased, prompting Penelo to roll her eyes. "No matter – there are times when is it more effective to look at what people _think_ is going on. There is a bit of truth in every rumor. Take this for example," he pulled a bundle of papers from his back pocket and unfolded them. "The people of Orbonne seem to think you are here to dance the streets of Archades with their emperor," he recapped, and he dropped the paper with a light _smack_ onto the counter between them.

It was a newspaper: _The Orbonne Times_. Penelo's eyes widened at the sight of the headline:

**EMPEROR LARSA DANCES THE STREETS WITH DALMASCAN AMBASSADOR **

Written by Lacinda fon Reick.

"Lacinda's article!" Penelo gasped, "I've been looking forward to reading this." _Hopefully she is more honest than Joras. _Penelo's heart thumped with both flattery and fear as she began to read the article.

"Congratulations," Balthier continued, "One day here and you have already made the front page of every newspaper in Archades. Not an easy feat – some spend their entire lives trying to get their names in the papers – to no avail, mostly."

Penelo scanned the paper for inaccuracies. Lacinda mentioned everything they talked about the day before: her appointment to ambassador, the fact she was assigned here in Archades, and the re-emergence of dance troupes in Rabanastre. The highlight of the story, though, was her dance with Larsa. Nothing seemed deceitful though – facts were not twisted, nothing implied. She sighed, relieved to know the reporter was trustworthy.

"You grace the streets with hip shimmies and wildsnake arms," Balthier's voice recaptured her attention, and he lifted a brow. "Trying to raise an interest in Dalmascan culture, are you?"

Penelo's lips spread into a guilty grin.

"Of course," he nodded once, "But I already knew that." He leaned toward Penelo, and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "What I want to know is _why_. And why now?"

Penelo's knowing smile never faltered. "That's something you'll have to find out later."

Balthier lifted his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright," he sighed, "You drive a hard bargain; what if I told you something in exchange?"

"Deal," Penelo smirked as she swung one leg over the other. "Tell me why _you're_ here."

"I am following a rumor," he spoke softly, ensuring his words reached no prying ears. "A few, actually – quite nasty ones."

Penelo raised her brows in a way that said _go on._

"It concerns the life of one of your dear friends here in Archades."

It was as though her heart knew, with how quickly it was beating. "_Larsa_?"

Balthier held his hand out in caution. "_Not so loud, will you_?" he whispered harshly, and he glanced around them to see the few heads that turned their way. Luckily, their interest didn't hold for long.

Penelo quickly covered her mouth with her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and returned her hands to her lap. "What did you hear? I heard rumors too – all the way in Rabanastre. What's going on, Balthier?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be fishing for answers in a tavern now would I?"

Penelo was losing her patience. "_Balthier_," she warned.

He shook his head and waved his hands. "Alright, alright," he said, "No need to use that nagging tone on me – and to think I didn't believe Vaan when he said it was deadly."

_He sure likes to talk_. Penelo bounced her foot as her patience dwindled.

"The rumors," he began, "are presented in the form of poems – rhyming couplets to be precise."

"That's what I heard!" Penelo exclaimed, and as soon as she noticed Balthier widen his eyes in warning, she immediately brought her voice down to a whisper. "Sorry."

"Which one did you hear? There are several different versions floating about."

Penelo looked down at her lap, and her face fell. She wished she didn't remember it so she wouldn't have to think about it anymore. After a deep inhale she recited the poem.

.

_"Alas, the Emperor is falling ill_

_His life will end before he writes his will."_

_._

"Hmm. That implies he will die young," Balthier contemplated, "Notice the rhythm to it. Doesn't it sound familiar?"

Penelo shuddered. "I'm guessing I'm not the only one getting horrific flashbacks of the Ridorana Cataract?"

"Correct," Balthier said, "Whoever wrote these is informed enough to know of the Occuria's particular style of poetry. This is one I heard:

_._

_The weakest link of our usurper's chain_

_His promise offers naught for our domain_

_._

"Usurper?" Penelo questioned, "But House Solidor has been in power for generations."

"Not as long as you think," Balthier countered. "Here is another:

_._

_At night, a serpent left without his head, _

_By dawn, his wish will be that he was dead."_

.

"The symbol of House Solidor is the serpents."

Balthier pointed at her, a proud smile on his lips. "Bright girl you are. Yes, the serpent refers to our young emperor. This rumor is curious – at first I assumed it meant they would chop his head off."

Penelo shuddered at the gruesome mental image.

"But then I thought of another interpretation," he continued, "What if it meant that he would go mad? That would certainly be more interesting – and a rumor worth spreading if one wished to hinder the emperor's reputation."

Penelo looked down at her hands in her lap. "That's awful," she said so softly she could hardly hear herself over the clamour of the tavern.

"That it is – as was intended I am sure. Now that brings me to why I am here," Penelo returned her gaze to Balthier, seeing the determination reflected in his eyes. "I intend to track these rumors to their source, and discover exactly _why_ they were created."

_He's here to protect Larsa._ "If there's anything I can do to help – please, let me know."

The corner of Balthier's lips curled into a smirk. "There is – you can tell me precisely why an ambassador of Dalmasca would be in Archades at this exact moment in time."

Penelo furrowed her brows. "Okay, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"_Everything. Is. Connected_," he answered sternly, pounding his index finger on the counter with each word. "In Archades, nothing is done without intent. Every action is a part of someone's ambition: every rumor that is spread, every piece of knowledge that is exchanged, every chop that is granted, and every job that is assigned. There is no spontaneity or free will – even kindness has been paid for."

Penelo sighed heavily in defeat. Balthier was being a bit negative; his bias clearly influenced by his own experience growing up in Archades. But he was family, and she trusted him. If it was for Larsa's safety, she had to give him as many details as possible.

"Alright," she said, and she told him everything there was to tell about her assignment in Archadia – of Larsa's plan to abolish the chop system, Ashe's plan to encourage tourism between Dalmasca and Archadia, and her part in persuading the Senators to agree with those plans.

Balthier inhaled, turning in his seat to lean on the bar. "He is either the bravest or most foolish man in Ivalice – perhaps both. In doing this, he has placed an enormous target on his back."

"But what does the bill have anything to do with these rumors? I heard the rumor way before he announced the bill."

He turned his head to regard her. "There are many ways information can leak, especially so in a town where it is worth more than gil," he sighed, sitting up again. "Or perhaps this was planned long ago, and the bill is just an excuse to finally take action."

Penelo looked down at her hands in her lap again. All of this was awful – she wished she didn't have to hear any of this, and she wished she could just go on believing they were nothing more than rumors. She wasn't feeling so hungry anymore.

"If the rumors are true, and someone's really trying to… to kill Larsa…" she could barely gather herself to say it. "Then shouldn't we tell Basch? The judges should know about this, after all, they are sworn to protect Larsa. They could tighten security and investigate."

Balthier looked down and shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"_What?_ Why not?"

"If the culprit is who I think, then word of the judge's actions would reach them quickly, and they would retreat, only to resurface their attempts once the judges say all is clear. Investigations cannot last forever, but a grudge can."

"Wait," Penelo leaned forward, desperate to know more. "You have an idea on who it is?"

He looked at her with tired eyes burdened with a disappointing truth. "My bet's on the Senate; if anyone would think of House Solidor as usurpers, it would be them. They've wanted Archadia's emperor dead for centuries, and young Larsa is an easy target, I'm afraid."

She couldn't help but feel defensive of her friend. "But why would Larsa be an easy target? Why is _he_ considered the weakest link?"

"He is the last of his house; Take him out and House Solidor is no more, opening Archadia to whoever is powerful enough to win her in civil war. Also, he is awfully young, and naïve to boot. It would have been easier to off him when he was just a child, but perhaps the Senate saw an opportunity to build a puppet emperor. However, in announcing this bill, he has proven that he is just the opposite."

As much as it made sense, Penelo didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to believe that someone Larsa was working close with would try to hurt him. "But you don't know for sure. We should be open to looking at other possibilities – just to be careful."

"No, I'm not," Balthier admitted. "However, it is certainly worth investigating. These men are powerful, which means they are _knowledgeable_. If it is not a member of the Senate, then perhaps one of them will know who it is. And regardless: as you see here," the copy of _The Orbonne Time_s crinkled as he held it up. "Word travels fast in this city. If we involve the judges, our culprit will hear of it, whoever they are."

"We can't just tell Basch and have him keep it a secret?"

"Nay; as Judge Magister, he is legally obligated to inform the entire Imperial Guard if there is a threat to the Emperor. Remember, he is still masquerading as his brother. Any step out of line will bring attention to him, and if his true identity were discovered, Larsa's position as Emperor would be further challenged."

Penelo would feel relieved if Basch knew about this – she trusted the man with her life, as she trusted him with Larsa's – but Balthier was right, unfortunately so. Defeated, she let out a sigh. "You're right, but I'm not okay with leaving Larsa vulnerable like this. He leaves the palace _unguarded_ these days. I wish he wasn't so careless."

Balthier smirked. "Well, then perhaps _you_ can be his bodyguard."

Penelo huffed a small laugh. "What?"

The sky pirate shrugged. "You're more than capable. I still recall the time your Blizzaga nearly killed me."

Shame flushed Penelo's face at the memory. "I'm _sorry_; it was that malboro's breath that made me do it!"

"So you say," Balthier teased, to which Penelo replied with a disgruntled huff.

Just when she was going to demand he forgive her, Balthier looked away, focusing on a patron: a young man sitting at the closest table to the bar. After a moment, Balthier returned his gaze to Penelo, his teasing smile replaced with urgency. "I'm afraid that's my cue to leave," with a nod, he gestured towards the man who was getting up from his seat. "Before you showed up, that man was spreading the very rumors you and I were discussing, and he was boasting to his friends about his upmost credible source of information. I intend to find out who exactly his source is."

So he wasn't here just to check out the local brew after all.

Before Penelo could ask for more information about the man spreading rumors, Balthier finished his beer with one last swig and swiftly got out of his seat.

"_Wait_," Penelo called, stopping Balthier in his tracks before he could bolt. "If you learn anything, will you let me know?"

"Meet me tomorrow at Sommer's Ice Cream – same time," he said, taking a step, and then pausing again. "Oh, and Vaan sends his regards – to Larsa as well."

_Vaan_ – just hearing his name again made her heart pang with guilt for leaving him behind. She wished he was here with her. "Vaan? He knows you're doing this?"

Balthier flashed a handsome smile. "Well who do you think sent me here?"

"Wait- you _knew_ I was here?"

He gave a mischievous wink. "If I had given you that information for free, I would've had nothing to bargain with, would I? And I would know nothing of your endeavor here."

_Of course._

Penelo chuckled, shaking her head. Balthier certainly mastered the information game growing up in Archades. He would be of invaluable help to her in search of the truth behind the falsehoods and masks everyone wore. "Tell him I said thanks – and that I miss him."

"Will do," Balthier nodded. The thud of the wooden door shutting announced the patron's departure of the tavern. "Good day, _Ambassador_," Balthier flashed Penelo one last smile before following his lead.

Penelo turned in her seat to watch Balthier leave. He opened the door, releasing sharp sunlight into the dark tavern. The golden light framed his silhouette, shining like a beacon of hope.

_Thank you, Balthier._

The tavernmaster emerged from the kitchen holding a plate of potato wedges and a freshly-grilled cockatrice sandwich, along with a tall glass of iced tea. "Sorry for the wait, ma'am," He said, offering an apologetic smile as he gently set Penelo's lunch on the counter.

"Thank you," she said. As hungry as she was, the sight of hot food did not bring her relief.

She took a deep breath. _Larsa will be fine_, she reassured herself.

Being in Archades made Penelo feel as though she were lost at sea, desperately searching for solid ground to land on. Knowing Balthier was here to help her sent a wave of relief over her. He knew this place, these people, better than her. His knowledge would help her find the person responsible for the rumors – and possibly, the person who wished for Larsa's death.

...

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed! I try to reply to all comments, however keep in mind if you don't have a FFnet account I cannot reply directly to you.

This chapter was named after the song "Rumors" by Adam Lambert


	7. Schism, Part 1

**Author's Note: And I'm back with another chapter! Originally, "Schism" was meant to be one chapter, much like "Into the Ocean." However, it reached over 10k and I had to split it. Luckily, that means y'all get the next chapter in one week instead of two. Hope you enjoy!**

_..._

* * *

**7\. Schism, I**

_..._

_Presuming you received an Archadian education, you will know the tale of a man named Archadias, and how he founded the city of Archades in the land north of Sochen with simply the clothes off his back, his family's support, and an idea: to create the greatest civilization in Ivalician history._

_What formal history lessons failed and continue to fail to mention, is that Archadias built his city on stolen land and gold, with the labor of indentured servants._

_– DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"_

...

* * *

...

Larsa both anticipated and dreaded this meeting.

He anticipated it because abolishing the Chop System was something he had always felt should be done. He dreaded it because he still bared shame for ending the previous meeting so abruptly, and due to a simple headache.

_The Senate must think me too weak to care for myself, let alone rule._

However, it was more than a headache; rather, it was weeks of restless nights and dreams of Vayne's taunts. It was his guilt of knowing he took part in Vayne's death, knowing what Dalmasca had suffered under the Empire, and knowing the dire circumstances of the Archadian people on the streets of Old Archades. This guilt he bared… was misplaced, he knew, yet he seemed unable to forgive himself.

He hoped the Senate would be more forgiving than he.

As it turned out, they were. Chairman Garamondt began the meeting with a warm welcome back. Then, to Larsa's surprise, Senator Caine added in a formal apology for his behavior in the previous meeting; the sincerity of it was something Larsa couldn't infer through the theatrical nature of the senator's speech, however. Regardless, it was a much better treatment than he was expecting.

"Thank you, Senators," Larsa accepted their sentiments, and when he looked upon the morning sun's rays peering into the Secondary Senate Chamber, he found that unlike during the previous meeting, the light caused him no pain. _An excellent start._ "And I must give my own apology: for ending our last meeting so shortly, and for departing to Dalmasca without notice. I have hindered our progress much, and I am deeply sorry." With the last word, he bowed his head in shame.

"My lord," the soft voice of Senator Rhys chimed in, and Larsa looked up to see his curious eyes across the table. "How are you feeling? You looked as though you were about to faint last we saw you."

Larsa regarded the Senator with a smile. "I am much better – thank you."

"Will you be re-introducing your bill?" Rhys asked, and as his words left his lips, every senate leader in the room lifted their spines and brought their eyes to Larsa.

"Yes, I will," Larsa stated proudly. "If you would all kindly turn to page one I can begin."

Garamondt and Rhys flipped their pages. Already having his copy of the bill open, Caine already had his copy open, reclining in his seat as he read far ahead of the others. Willmundt took out a stack of paper and a pen, ready to record the meeting.

Larsa took a deep breath. "Now, I will say this plainly: this bill is to abolish the chop system in its entirety. Title I is the Free Entry Act: Chops or any fees shall not be required or charged for entry into the Imperial City of Archades, and all its districts. As well, possession of one sandalwood chop will no longer be required for cab rides, and thus will no longer be required for entry into Tsenoble."

He paused to eye the senators, searching for any signs of objection or potential interruptions. However, the Senate remained silent, waiting ever patiently, and Larsa continued.

"Title II is the Liberation of Status Act. Titles such as ardent and gentry shall cease to exist. Chops will no longer signify status. Thus, privileges currently granted exclusively to those of gentry status will be available to all. Also: chops will no longer be used as a form of identification for employees of the Imperial government."

Larsa paused again to glance at Garamondt. "Chairman: regarding your concerns with future security of the city's borders, together let us draft a plan that would establish a replacement."

Garamondt softly cleared his throat and nodded. "Very well."

"Are there any other concerns?" Larsa searched the senator's expressions until his eyes settled on Caine, who appeared to be deep in thought. _Surely he has something to say. I ought to get it out of him before he interrupts me._ "What say you, Senator?"

The rustling of papers and turning of chairs settled into silence as all eyes found Caine.

The senator sat up and sighed. "Your Excellency, once again I apologize for my behavior last week."

_As you should._ "Go on," Larsa prompted.

Caine unclasped his hands on the round table. "You have drafted an excellent bill, truly, with the most noble of intentions. The Free Entry Act, especially." With a wry smile, he glanced down at his copy of the bill, gingerly lifting the corner of the page. "I daresay I might even support it. However, it is Title II that which concerns me."

"Speak your piece," Larsa permitted.

Caine rose to his feet, and Larsa found that there was neither a smirk on his lips, nor a smile in his eyes. "I suggest we drop Title II entirely."

Garamondt opened his mouth to speak, only to cough two thunderous roars instead. Rhys' jaw dropped slightly. Willmundt raised his brows at Caine before fervently scratching his words onto paper. Larsa failed to blink.

"Title I is more than capable of standing on its own," Caine explained. "Think on it: we convert the bill to one that is solely focused on introducing tourism to Archades. We can establish areas of the city that would be designated specifically to tourism, where chops are not required for entry. There is no need to eliminate our system entirely."

Larsa tried to picture it: a tourist town within the walls of Archades. It would be fun, clean, diverse, and not to mention financially fruitful. However, it would be undeniably separate.

That wouldn't do.

And above all that, Caine was missing the _point_.

"To bring tourism to Archades is a dream I wish to see realized," Larsa admitted, and then he shook his head. "However, alone it is not enough."

Caine blinked, smiling incredulously. "Pardon?"

Larsa leaned forward in his seat, ensuring that Caine looked him in the eyes. "It is not enough," he repeated.

Garamondt briefly choked on a cough as he glanced at Rhys, who looked down in silent thought. Willmundt's writing hand hesitated, as though he were unsure if he should use Larsa's exact words in the records.

Caine smirked. "You want too much, my lord."

Larsa blinked slowly, smiling politely. "I simply endeavor for something greater, as I have been encouraged to do since birth. As all citizens of Archades have – am I not right?" _This is simply a trait resulted from the system that which you hold so dear, Senator. _

Caine smiled stiffly. "Of course," he said as he took his seat.

Larsa sat upright. "Imagine we grant entry, and we stop just there. This would be of no problem to a tourist, but what of those who would wish to live here? It is insufficient to simply allow them entry only to leave them to their own devices. In a city such as Rabanastre, where there is no hierarchy equivalent to our Chop System, nothing stands in the way of a new citizen hoping to build a life for themself. However, with the Chop System still intact, this serves a problem. Consider what became of the Landisians: many of them found difficulty adapting to their new lives under the Empire, through no fault of their own. Many of those who were fortunate enough to be granted entry into Archades struggled to find work simply due to their former nationality, and anyone who denies that should take a walk through the streets and see for himself. The majority of our Landisian population reside in Orbonne and Trant for a reason. Many Landisians had no choice but to either join the military, or find means of self-employment, assuming Archadians were willing to support a business they deemed 'unworthy'."

Larsa directed his gaze to Garamondt, whose gray brows were raised. "As you said yourself at our last meeting, Chairman, in a time when foreign spies were a great threat, the Chop System was established with the intention to create difficulty for outsiders to enter the Empire's capital, as well to discourage them from staying. In a system intended to exclude, how can we expect citizens to succeed when they are disadvantaged from the beginning?"

Caine's lips were tugged into a frown as he refused to meet Larsa's gaze, choosing instead to stare at his interlaced hands on the table in deep concentration._ Silent for once, are you? _

Larsa continued."It is _not enough_ to allow them entry only to set them up for failure. Otherwise, opening the gates would be nothing more than a formality to win the favour of those who would support this bill, without the commitment required to ensure its long-term success."

Caine's eyes rose to meet Larsa's once more, and his smirk returned. "As you say, your Excellency."

Larsa looked away from Caine to address the other leaders. "I assure you, strengthening our weakest members will benefit all of Archadia. It has been proven in the commercial success of the Orbonne Market, as well as the economic growth in Trant, Rienna and Molberry since the addition of Orbonne. We will continue to see such growth and especially so once we introduce tourism and immigration."

Caine spoke under his breath. "Not to mention the growth we will see in our taxes…"

Larsa's eyes immediately shot to Caine. "Pardon? Is there more you wish to say, Senator?"

"Forgive me," Caine said, "However, I failed to miss your tendency to take from hard-working Archadians that which is rightfully theirs, especially so for the gentry."

"I raised taxes to fund the reconstruction of Rabanastre to atone for our crimes of war," Larsa admitted, "and in return I grant you an Empire with allies, not enemies. I raised taxes to support the construction and establishment of Orbonne, and in return I grant you an Empire that can stand on its own. With the removal of the Chop System, Archadia can strengthen further; we can become an economically and morally healthier society. No longer must the people of Archades make sacrifices simply to retain their citizenship and livelihood. No longer must we occupy other nations to feel a sense of power and security."

Caine narrowed his eyes and gripped the edge of the table. "Sacrifice? And what would you know of sacrifice? You come from noble blood, born to a family that has held the Empire for generations. The only requirement for your ascension to the throne was to live long enough to witness your father and brothers' demise."

At his words, a deafening silence hung heavy in the Senate Chambers.

It took every ounce of Larsa's patience not to demand that the Chairman call for a vote for the termination of Caine from the Imperial Senate. For a senator to show such disrespect to an emperor was unheard of in the history of the Empire.

_What game does he think he is playing?_

The roar of Garamondt's cough echoed, clearing the air. He glared at Caine. "Senator Caine, once again you overstep your bounds."

Caine bowed his head and held his hands up in surrender. "My apologies, Chairman," he shifted his gaze to Larsa, "And to you, your Excellency. However, I have made my point plain, I presume?"

_Quite clear, _Larsa thought. However, as much as he wanted to be angry with Caine, he found his anger unsupported. The truth in the senator's words was undeniable.

The gaze of the Imperial Senate felt heavy as they awaited Larsa's response. His eyes, downcast, most likely failed to hide the sorrow that stirred within: sorrow for his deceased father and brother. It was forever a source of conflict for Larsa that the reason he had such power today was because of their deaths. "Yes, Senator; I cannot deny you are right in this." He lifted his eyes to face the men who watched him. "I do not personally know sacrifice in this manner."

While he had their attention, he decided to stand. "However: I heed the pleas and concerns of our people every day. Men, women, children tell me of their struggles, of the valuable information they sold just to stay afloat, betraying their own blood to ascend, and how it tore their families apart. The poor sacrifice their time, happiness and morality to attain wealth and reputation; the wealthy sacrifice their freedom in fear of losing what they have. Our people are suffering under an outmoded system that is failing them. As their leaders, _we_ are failing them."

"Please understand," Larsa pleaded, "I only wish for the success and happiness of the Archadian people. I can no longer watch them suffer, and I cannot allow the formation of another Old Archades." He closed his eyes and shook his head at his memory of the old capital: of the Archadians left destitute, hopeless, and crushed beneath the Empire's boots.

"And you will not, my lord," Garamondt said, "As the Orbonne bill pardoned those who had lost their citizenship."

"Yes," Larsa agreed, then shook his head. "However, that was nothing more than a short-term solution to a centuries-old flaw in the system. We must eliminate the source of the problem if we wish to see continuous peace and prosperity."

Caine spoke next, and there was sincerity in his expression that was hardly present. "Your intentions are admirable, my lord, and I too wish for the success of the Empire – as we all do. However, it appears we cannot agree on what method we should take. Perhaps for now, we can agree that you and I see differently."

Larsa smiled. _Agree to disagree. That is the most for which I can hope – for the time being. _"Very well," Larsa said, taking his seat. "Senator Caine, if you still doubt my familiarity with the exigencies of our people, then might I suggest a trip to the city streets to personally inquire the citizens of their struggles? Perhaps then we can compare notes."

Caine smirked, lifting himself from his reclined position to lean forward. "You mean I should ask their opinion on the necessity of the Chop System?"

"Yes."

"My Lord: to release information on proposed legislation so prematurely is unheard of."

Larsa quirked his brow. "Yet not illegal."

Caine paused, narrowing his eyes for a second before his lips spread into a grin. "You jest."

Larsa challenged Caine's signature smirk with one of his own. "Not at all."

Caine let out a low chuckle, and for a second Larsa thought he saw genuine amusement in the senator's eyes.

"_Alright_," Garamondt cut in, his patience clearly lost. "Senator Caine, if you have voiced your concerns, let us continue. There is much work to be done on this bill, starting with a proposal for a new security system for our entry gates, as well as a replacement for the government-issued chops. We also must draft a plan for the gathering and removal of all chops if this bill is to be passed."

As they flipped through the pages of the bill, Larsa eyed Caine from across the room.

_I will have you on my side soon enough, Senator. We both wish to see the same end. Let us work together to meet it._

_..._

* * *

_..._

The afternoon sun began its descent, casting deep shadows behind the monoliths of Tsenoble. After her lunch with Balthier, Penelo wanted to get her mind off the disturbing rumors regarding Larsa's death, and so she took a long walk around the city. Now, as she weaved through crowds of citizens across cobblestone streets, all she wanted was to rest her aching feet.

_Better head back to the palace._

However, she wasn't ready to retire for the day just yet. After all, she still needed a proper tour of the palace, and since Larsa was busy, she would just have to take herself.

She thought about taking a cab to the roof like she had with Larsa yesterday, but she wanted the experience of going through the front entrance. Would the Imperial Palace have a grand hall like the one in the Royal Palace of Rabanastre?

After asking many gentry for directions (who were much less polite once they discovered she had no sandalwood to offer in return), Penelo found herself at the ground entrance of the Imperial palace. A long line of people stretched out from the entry: citizens who had purchased tickets to a guided tour of the palace.

Penelo amused herself with the idea of getting in line so she can finally go on a tour, until she noticed a couple of guards enter the palace from a single door several paces to the side: a separate entrance for palace employees, it seemed. Each of them presented their government-issued sandalwood to the guard posted at the entrance before they were allowed in.

_Perk of being a government employee: skipping the line!_

The Imperial guard's gaze followed Penelo as she walked up the steps. "State your name and business here," he commanded, his voice muffled from his metal helmet. The sternness in his tone struck Penelo with uneasiness.

"I'm Ambassador Penelo of Dalmasca, returning to my room for the day, Ser."

The man laughed, mocking her. "Good joke girl – 'tis certainly unique from the others, I grant you. Now purchase a ticket and wait with everyone else." He cocked his head to the side, gesturing to the line that wrapped around the building.

_Seriously?_

Penelo furrowed her brows. "I'm not joking," she said, and then she remembered the weight of sandalwood in her purse. She retrieved the package Basch had given her and held it open for the guard to see."You're looking for these, right? Like I said, I work here."

The guard pulled one chop out of the package, tilting it this way and that. Through the window of his helmet, Penelo could see him narrow his eyes as he examined the intricate carving of the twin serpents of House Solidor. "Where did you get these?" he demanded.

Did he not listen to her? "Once again, I work here at the palace. The Emperor gave these to me himself, see," Penelo closed the envelope, revealing the wax seal of House Solidor.

The guard snatched the envelope, and he glared at Penelo with suspicious eyes. "Who did you steal these from, girl? The sooner you confess, the lighter the sentence, I promise you."

Penelo scoffed. "You think I stole these? I told you, Emperor Larsa gave them to me. If you don't believe me, just ask him yourself."

"Emperor Larsa is a busy man," he sneered, "He has no time to deal with such trifles."

Perhaps politely begging would work. "Please, I'm his best friend; he'll be looking for me."

"And why should I believe our Emperor would befriend the likes of you?"

Courtesy be damned, Penelo raised her voice again. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Before Penelo could begin to verbally pummel the rude guard, another man's voice from behind pulled her away.

The voice was calm and quiet as the waters of the Nebra. "I am disappointed in you, Remas," said the man who was now next to her. The dark curls of his hair were held with product that gave it a good shine, and he was exceptionally tall. To look at him, Penelo had to crane her neck as though she were gazing at the very top of the Imperial Palace. "Have you not read today's issue of _The Tsenoble Report?_" he questioned the guard, "If you had, you would know well that she is who she says."

The man turned his head slightly to regard her, and his eyes, the deepest shade of blue Penelo had ever seen, left her stunned. "Undoubtedly Dalmascan attire, golden hair in immaculate braids," he continued, and his lips curved into a smile, "with beauty as radiant as the desert sun. She needs no identification beyond that, I think."

Penelo couldn't move, and she couldn't think. All she could do was feel her heart race at his flattering words.

The man smiled politely at the now silent guard, who appeared to be just as stunned as Penelo. "She is allowed entry."

The guard nodded obediently. "Of course, Senator Rhys."

_A senator_, Penelo thought. And now the intricate embroidery on his doublet, his finely groomed hair, and his regal demeanor made sense to her. He looked remarkably young for a senator. Then again, Larsa was just twelve when he became Emperor; even now at seventeen he was young still. This senator next to her was young, yet matured; and after noticing his high cheekbones, warm smile, chin dimple and prominent jawline, Penelo admitted he was quite handsome.

The guard stepped aside, and Senator Rhys turned to Penelo, gesturing to the door. "After you."

Penelo approached the door and almost passed through until she remembered something. She held her right hand out to the guard, not hesitating to give him a smug smile. "My chops, please."

Reluctantly, he returned what was hers. "My apologies, Ambassador."

As Penelo entered the palace, she could hear Senator Rhys address the guard. "Might I suggest you stay well-informed, Remas, and we shall have no trouble here."

"O-of course, Senator," Remas muttered behind his helmet.

The Imperial Palace _did_ have a grand hall, although with more steel and less stone, and shapes more geometric then the curvatures of the Royal Palace. A tour guide stood in front of painted portraits of Archadia's most notorious Emperors and Kings while cheerfully reciting the history of their country's founding. _It's all lies, _Penelo thought bitterly, wishing she could interrupt the tour guide's speech and take over._ I read the truth. King Archadias was a fraud. Larsa's the real deal!_

Before she could further entertain herself with that thought, echoes of hurried footsteps emerged from behind, and Penelo turned to see that Senator Rhys was approaching. "Ambassador Penelo!" He called, and Penelo waited until he caught up to her. His grin made him even more handsome, if that were possible. "Wherever are you headed to?" he asked, "Might I escort you?"

His attention was flattering; Penelo felt her face heat up without her permission. "Oh I was – I was just going to explore the palace a little bit, then return to my room," she stammered.

Rhys frowned. "Oh, it would be a shame to retire so early. Please, join me for a late afternoon tea. It is customary here in Archades."

Penelo hesitated. _Tea? With a Senator?_ Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, knowing that this was a great opportunity to befriend a member of the Imperial Senate; this was exactly what she was here for.

Penelo put on a most gracious smile. "Of course; I would be honoured, Senator-"

"Rhys," he introduced himself, offering his hand, which Penelo took without hesitation. "'Tis certainly a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador."

"Penelo."

...

* * *

...

The Dining Floor balcony was bathed in the warm afternoon light, the glow of it accentuating the beauty of the white, pillared railings: remnants of classic Archadian architecture in a sea of modern metallic spires. The whirs and zooms of the distant aircabs below were almost silent from so high above. It was no small wonder the gentry wished to live at such a high elevation; the top was the only place to get any peace and quiet away from the noise of the city.

Penelo reclined in her seat at a small table for two across from the senator who had just saved her afternoon. "Rhys," he had introduced himself, but she inferred it was his family's name. The young senator sat upright with poise: relaxed and confident. His eyes, though blue, were as dark as the depths of the sea, and he looked her in the eye with a curiosity that was both intimidating and flattering all at once.

Two palace kitchen workers emerged from the building, gingerly placing onto the table a pair of teacups, a teapot, spoons, a creamer pitcher, a cup of sugar cubes, and a three-tier tray filled with assorted reflected off the fine porcelain tableware brilliantly as the servers placed the final pieces onto the marble table with a gentle clink.

The tea was dark umber in color, and emitted steam as it poured. Penelo closed her eyes and took a deep breath to inhale the earthy, yet sweet aroma, and she heard the distant sound of doors closing as the workers took their leave. And now, Penelo was alone with the Senator.

Penelo was admiring the floral designs on the teacup in front of her when Rhys finally spoke. His voice was deep, and smooth as velvet, with an accent stronger than that of any other Archadian she had ever met – including Larsa. "I must apologize for the behaviour of Remas. I will be sure to notify the judges of his mistake."

"Thank you," Penelo smiled gratefully.

Rhys's lips curved into a small smile. "Have you had Archadian afternoon tea before?"

She shook her head. "No," she admitted, her eyes travelling across the display of tableware and pastries. "And I have to say, this is different than how we have tea in Dalmasca."

"As I've heard," Rhys's smile widened to a grin, revealing impeccably ivory teeth that gleamed just as much as the tableware. "They say in Rabanastre, tea is served without cream; is there truth to that?"

Penelo found his smile infectious. "Yes," she nodded, "We only sweeten it with sugar, and…" she paused to look at the plates of puff pastries, biscuits, and cakes. "We also don't have it with sweets. We always have it with breakfast, but sometimes we just drink it by itself - especially if we have guests over. There's also herbal tea that we use as medicine."

Rhys's eyes glowed with curiosity. "Is it true that you can make tea with the flowers of a cactoid?"

His enthusiasm for the subject was charming. "Yes," Penelo nodded, "That tea in particular is good for people who are sick or have trouble sleeping." _Speaking of which, I hope Larsa drinks his tea tonight._

"Fascinating," Rhys said, and then proceeded to gently drop a sugar cube into his tea. He then poured a small amount of cream, and used a silver spoon to stir it together, all with a level of grace Penelo had never seen in tea etiquette, as though it were an art form and not simply a drink. "Although there are differences in our tea culture, it appears both our countries use tea to bring people together."

_Very insightful, _Penelo thought as she mixed cream and sugar into her own cup. "That can be said about people in general," she added, "We may be from different countries, with our own traditions and ways of life, but most of us want the same thing-"

"A good cup of tea?"

Penelo couldn't stop herself from giggling like a school girl. _He's got a sense of humor. _"Yes, that, but I was going to say: we all want peace."

"I see little difference." Rhys grinned, and Penelo's heart melted. He let out a chuckle, light and joyful. "My jest aside, there is wisdom to your words; quite diplomatic of you. I see why Queen Ashelia chose you to represent her people."

"Thank you…" Penelo watched the senator sip his tea, and she immediately did the same, hoping to hide her blush behind the teacup. The tea had mild strength compared to Dalmascan teas, and it was sweet with a hint of vanilla. It was almost like a dessert itself; there was no need for puff pastries and cake.

"Senator Rhys," Penelo said as she gently placed the teacup on the saucer, "Larsa and I share that philosophy: that beyond everything we all want peace. He believes in a future where all children of Ivalice can live together in such harmony."

Rhys placed his cup down as well, and his eyes darted up to hers. "And I support him in his endeavor to create such a future. I am not permitted to disclose this; however, I feel that I can trust you."

_Disclose what? _Did she really give off the impression that she was trustworthy? If so, it would be helpful in her mission.

"I supported the Orbonne bill."

"You did?"

"Yes," Rhys admitted, "Just as I support Lord Larsa now." He looked directly into her eyes, and she stilled, as if a stop spell had stunned her through his dark gaze.

_Now? Is he talking about Larsa's bill to end the Chop System?_

"I see," he said, and looked upon her with a knowing smile. "So he told you? You know of his current bill?"

_What am I, an open book?_ Penelo mentally scolded herself for having such a revealing expression. At this point, there was no reason to deny the truth. "Yes," she answered hesitantly, "He told me."

Rhys took another sip of his tea, "Amazing," he said, smiling as he placed his cup down. He leaned forward in his seat. "Forgive me if I pry, however, I couldn't help but notice you address Lord Larsa so informally. You two are close, I presume?"

Penelo paused. Even though there was no reason to withhold the truth, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was supposed to keep herself a secret. Emperors weren't supposed to be friends with street dancers. However, with the truth already spread like wildfire, thanks to the papers, there was no point in hiding anything regardless. She took a deep breath. "He's my best friend."

Rhys raised his brows. "Ah," he said, "So there is truth to the papers after all."

_The papers._ Of course a Senator would be well-informed. "Is it uncommon to find truth in the papers?"

"It depends on the paper," he answered, "For example: you will never find a source as credible as _The Tsenoble Report_. However, the gossip columns are always questionable no matter the publisher."

The paper associated with the reporter Joras Rickard, who insisted Larsa was running away from his responsibilities? She couldn't help but doubt Rhys's statement.

The senator continued. "Which is why, when only the gossip columns were reporting you and Lord Larsa are friends, I had to question the authenticity of that information. But I digress. Ambassador, you must tell me: how did you two meet?"

She figured there was no harm in telling him. At least, she couldn't seem to stop herself from doing so. "He and I met in Bhujerba more than five years ago," she answered, and when she recalled the events that led to their meeting, she brought her teacup to her lips, wishing the tea could carry her words and drown them back in her throat.

Rhys's finely groomed brows furrowed as he nodded. "On neutral grounds I see. What were you doing in Bhujerba?"

Penelo's heart skipped a beat as she almost choked on her tea, barely avoiding a coughing fit. She gently returned her cup to the saucer, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt. "Oh, it's silly, I don't want to bore you with the details," she dismissed.

But Rhys leaned in further, indigo irises piqued with intrigue. "No, please, I am sure it would make an interesting story."

Penelo hesitated, looking into his curious and hopeful eyes for a moment, until she finally sighed in defeat. "Alright. I was... kidnapped by bounty hunters in order to lure in a sky pirate."

Rhys smiled incredulously. "Truly? You do not jest?"

Penelo shook her head and sighed again. "I wish I was."

"Although I am sorry that happened to you, I must say, this is nothing short of interesting. Please, do go on," Rhys encouraged, and Penelo found she was unable to refuse a man with such a charmingly innocent smile.

There was no turning back now; she had already dug her own grave. "Well," she began, "The bounty hunters thought I was important to the pirate, but I didn't really know him; I had just met him briefly in Rabanastre."

"Did the pirate show up to Bhujerba?"

"Yes," Penelo answered, "But it was mainly because my brother convinced him."

"So your brother is friends with a sky pirate? Fascinating." Rhys retreated from his spot on the edge of his seat, and straightened his posture. "What happened next?" He asked, taking another sip of tea.

Penelo wanted to spare herself from giving him further details, so she kept it short. "Well, to summarize it: the pirate showed up, and the bounty hunters let me go. I was lost in Bhujerba, I didn't have any money to get home. So when I was wandering the streets, I ran into a Judge, and that's when I met Larsa. He saved me when the Judge wanted to arrest me. He had no reason to help me, but he did anyway."

"That is quite the tale. It pleases me to know you escaped unharmed," Rhys said, smiling warmly. He placed his cup down, newly emptied. "And you and Lord Larsa have been friends since that day?"

Penelo nodded, sipping her tea.

"Amazing time we live in, is it not?" Rhys grinned, "When such an unlikely alliance can happen by chance?"

_An unlikely alliance: the Emperor's son and a Dalmascan street orphan. That's what he means. _Considering his undoubtedly noble upbringing, she couldn't blame Rhys for thinking that way, even though it stung.

The senator's grin lowered, and he glanced at Penelo's half-empty cup. "Pray tell me: how does our tea compare to that of Dalmascan teas?"

Penelo took another sip, looking into the cup thoughtfully. "They're different… but each style is delicious in its own way. Although I have my obvious bias, I can't say that one is truly better than the other."

Her answer prompted Rhys to smile again. "You are fascinating, Ambassador Penelo. And you seem to me a woman with many compelling stories to tell. I should like to meet again, if you would?"

Penelo's heart began to race. This felt like she was being asked out on a date, but she didn't want to embarrass herself by jumping to conclusions. This would be just a friendly meeting with a new acquaintance, nothing more. _For the people of Archadia and Dalmasca, _she reminded herself. This was purely diplomatic.

She nodded, returning his smile. "I would like that."

...

* * *

...

**Author's Note: This chapter was named after "Schism" by TOOL.**

**Please leave a review if you enjoyed!**


	8. Schism, Part 2

**Author's Note: **To those still reading, I want to say thank you for your support. I know everyone out there right now is afraid of what the future will hold because of all these cancellations and quarantines due to the coronavirus. I am currently writing this at my job in the airport, where it is so empty I don't know what to do with myself. I guess I'll just write more fic. Maybe I can add some illustrations. As an artist, that's all I can do. I hope you and your loved ones are safe and well. Wherever you are, or whatever your circumstances are, let this be a time where we all work together and help each other any way we can. Just as Larsa said in FFXII: "In co-operation lies our hope."

...

* * *

_..._

**8\. Schism, II**

_With an army of sellswords, Archadias threatened the lives of the villagers living in the lands north of what is now the Sochen caves. In exchange for their lives, they would become the indentured servants of Archadias and his supporters, farming the land for crops and mining the mountains for precious metals to sell to lords and Kings of nearby cities. They gained not from the prosperity that followed: only aching bones and empty promises._

_ – DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"_

_..._

* * *

...

Larsa never thought he would spend his evening in the Hall of Portraits, and yet, there he was, strolling past regal postures, flowing robes, and stiff faces of emperors past. There weren't many; after all, in comparison to the entire history of Archadia, House Solidor's rule was but a blink of an eye. Lord Gramis was only the fourth Emperor of House Solidor, and Vayne, although his rule was short-lived, was the fifth.

He stopped just after the portrait of Vayne, at an empty space on the beige wall: a space reserved for Larsa's own portrait. Judges and Senators alike implored Larsa to get his portrait painted shortly after his inauguration, but he refused. Every year he was asked, and every year he would put it off without a thought. Perhaps, he felt… he didn't deserve one.

His thoughts continued circling around his latest meeting with the Senate. It was Senator Caine's words that clouded his mind throughout the day, and Larsa proceeded to recall them yet again.

_Sacrifice? And what would you know of sacrifice? _

_The only requirement for your ascension to the throne was to live long enough to witness your father and brothers' demise._

The truth of those words stung the most. Everything he had in his life was given to him simply because he was born into this world a son of House Solidor: the privilege of living in the Imperial Palace, with all the protection, knowledge, and comforts available at his disposal, as well as the respect from the people of Archadia, the assistance of palace workers and guidance of senators and judges alike. He did not work nor fight for this; he did nothing to deserve any of it.

_The Emperor of Archadia._ It was a title he thought he would never have, and a title he inherited because his father's life was taken unjustly – taken by Vayne.

Vayne, the brother he had killed. Although he played a mere supporting role to the lady Ashe and her party, Larsa could not deny his hand in Vayne's death. It was he who drew his blade first.

However, it was Vayne who made the first threat against Ashe and the innocent civilians in Rabanastre._ I was simply defending them._ _He should have ceased fire after the resistance surrendered. I did what I must._

Yet, Vayne deserved to live, surely? Who was Larsa to decide, when his hands were just as stained as his brother's?

Perhaps red hands were a family trait, and he was not so different after all.

Larsa focused on his father's portrait. Lord Gramis had it painted in his prime, shortly after his inauguration. His ash brown hair matched Larsa's own, and his eyes looked just as weary - if not more so. Perhaps Larsa resembled his father more than he thought.

He always expected he would follow his father's example – not as Emperor, that role being reserved for Vayne – but as a nobleman of House Solidor. However, after learning the true horrors of imperialism, he could no longer see his father's triumphs in Nabradia and Dalmasca as honorable.

"What kind of a man were you, truly? Did I ever know at all?" He said to the portrait, feeling like a fool. "Place the needs of others before those of our own," he recited the words passed down over generations of Solidor sons. "Was there ever any truth to that? Or was it all a farce?"

The only reply was the deafening silence of the empty hallway.

There was no answer, no path to lead him out of the moral labyrinth he was lost in.

Larsa's thoughts drifted back to the meeting. Should he drop Title II of the bill? Was it worth sacrificing his dream for a better Archades, with no chop system to act as a gatekeeper of opportunity, so he could at least open the front gates? A small step towards a brighter future was better than none at all, right?

Right?

What was 'right', anyway?

His lord father once told him that there were times when compromise was the only way to move forward. Larsa knew the truth of that; it was always right to put the thoughts and feelings of others into consideration.

So why did he desire nothing else than to stand his ground and refuse to bend to the Senate's will?

_What solution would you make of this, Father?_

Larsa wished his father had gotten another portrait painted later in his life. Born as Lord Gramis's fourth son, and to his third wife, Larsa had never known the late emperor in his youth. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture his father as he remembered him.

Larsa recalled one of his last memories of his father. It was shortly after his return from Bhujerba.

...

* * *

...

After he had met the Dalmascan orphans Vaan and Penelo, along with their allegedly fallen Princess who was in fact alive, followed by two sky pirates, and the knight who reportedly killed King Raminas, Larsa had many questions that he needed answered.

He could not ask these questions freely, however. The princess and her knight were considered enemies of the Empire, and involvement with sky pirates would certainly get him punished regardless of the circumstances. Unless he wished to be confined to his bedchambers for eternity, relinquishing his freedom to travel as he willed, he would not disclose his cooperation with those whom his father considered enemies. The Dalmascan orphans would be the safest option, then. He never got the chance to speak extensively with Vaan, however, and so he would recount his meeting with the girl, Penelo.

The guards opened the doors to the Imperial Chamber, and Larsa stepped through. Upon a raised throne, Lord Gramis sat tall, his royal robes and diadem as decorative as they were intimidating. Archadia's emperor rested his laced hands on his desk, his shoulders rising and falling as he took a deep breath.

"Welcome home, my son," Larsa's lord father greeted him with a smile, the warmth of it akin to the red sky through the windows behind him.

Larsa proceeded further into the chamber, his steps slow and smooth, masking his trembling heart within. He craned his neck to look his father in the eyes as he stopped a mere three paces away from his desk. "Father," he said. "May I speak with you?"

The fondness in the Emperor's eyes remained. "As you wish," he said, and then glanced at the door guards. "Leave us," he commanded.

"Yes, your Excellency," the guards nodded in obedience, closing the doors behind them as they took their leave.

Lord Gramis took another deep breath, the sound as coarse as Dalmascan sand. "I trust your journey to Bhujerba proved most fruitful, especially so after ensuring Ghys could not stand in your way." His soft expression curled into a knowing smirk.

Guilt pressed Larsa to gulp, and he wondered if his father could hear it. _Ghys has already told him of my escape; far too long have I delayed this visit._ "I understand I placed myself in harm's way when I disobeyed your orders to remain at Ghys's side. I only wished to see Archadia's source of magicite with my own eyes. Please forgive me." Larsa bowed his head.

"How could I place blame on you for pursuing such raw curiosity? As well, I see it was not in vain that I ordered Gabranth to instruct you in the art of swordplay; there are vile creatures in those mines, no doubt. I raise all my sons to become decisive and powerful men; you are no exception."

Larsa exhaled, the air he held so tightly flowed smooth and steady out of his lungs. "Thank you, father."

"Is that all that troubles you? Or does another burden hold your shoulders so tensely?"

Larsa took another breath, making sure to relax his shoulders on the exhale. "There is something that troubles me: something I've heard."

Lord Gramis leaned forward, holding all his weight on the arms of his chair. "Go on," he permitted.

"After leaving the Lhusu Mines, I met a girl from Dalmasca," Larsa began, taking note of his lord Father's slight lift of his brow at the mention of Archadia's newest territory. "She told me awful things: that many children were orphaned from the Battle at Nalbina, and of the mistreatments of Rabanastrans by the Imperial Guard. They are _starving_, father, and they have been forced to live underground in unsanitary conditions. Why didn't I know of this? Why don't our people know of this?"

Larsa watched the warmth in his father's eyes disappear as though all the light of hope was stolen from him. "I see there is no fooling you. I expected as such; your mother's intellect was keener still than any Judge's blade, and now it lives on in you. Very well."

Larsa's inhale was sharp, and he held his breath, allowing his shoulders to tense despite his better judgment.

The Emperor sat upright, lacing his hands together once again. "As you are aware, an emperor's duty is to serve and protect the people of Archadia, as we each swear to do on the day of our inauguration. This includes protecting our people from truths they cannot bear. You see, the citizens live their lives one day at a time. Their worries center on their recent past, their present, and their immediate future; this is all they can manage. Knowledge of war and governance can be overwhelming for them. It is our duty to bear this burden in their stead."

Larsa lowered his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. "I understand," he sighed.

"I had hoped to grant you but a few more years of such blissful ignorance, however, it appears your patience wears thin in such idle peace." Gramis's sigh was heavy. "Will you grant me the disappointment that my son has grown so quickly beyond my knowing?"

"Of course," Larsa permitted, guilty for upsetting his dear father. _You are ever tasked with bearing all the burdens of Archadia, after all._

Their reunion was not as he feared; his father wasn't angry with him. Finally, Larsa felt he could breathe easily.

However, now that the lens of anticipation no longer clouded Larsa's vision, his father did not appear as the Emperor he remembered. He did not hold himself as tall, and his robes hung more loosely, quivering along with the slight tremble of his tired arms.

"Larsa," Gramis said, "I –"

The Emperor's cough was a vicious and ruthless beast that attacked his lungs, leaving him close to collapsing.

As his father's wheezing echoed throughout the chamber, Larsa felt terrified and helpless. "Father!" He called, holding out a useless hand. On instinct, he grasped onto all he knew of healing. He ran around the desk and up the steps to his father's side, holding a potion to his lips. "Please drink this," he pleaded.

Gramis drank the potion slowly, and then cleared his throat. "I fear that soon enough potions will no longer suffice," he said.

"Have you seen a physician?"

"I have seen many physicians over several months," Gramis said, grasping the arms of his chair to pull himself upright with all his strength. "None of whom have found a cure, I'm afraid."

Larsa felt as though his heart would pound out of his chest. "I had no idea…"

Gramis lifted his gaze to Larsa, his smile weighted with guilt. "Another burden I wished to spare you."

"There must be something we can do," Larsa tried.

"Ever the optimist," through his pain, Gramis smiled. "Promise me that in all your growth, this will never change."

"Father…"

...

* * *

...

Larsa began blinking rapidly, his eyes swelling until a tear finally escaped, trickling down his cheek. His throat was tight as he swallowed.

_Far too long did I remain in the dark, all on your will, father. Unbeknownst to you, my ignorance did not protect me. Rather, it left me unprepared, and raised a wall between us._

"Larsa?" a soft voice liberated him from his thoughts.

He was so lost in his memory that he hadn't noticed he was no longer alone in the hallway. He turned, following the angelic hum to find none other than Penelo. The taps of her sandals against the tile floors echoed through the hallway until she was at his side. Her lips gently curved into a kind smile.

"Hey, you weren't at dinner," she said, and her smile grew into a mischievous grin. "I was going to tell you that I forgive you for not giving me a tour of the palace," she teased.

He hoped she wouldn't notice his red, teary eyes, but then she stepped around to face him. Her smile fell. "Larsa what's wrong?" she asked, lifting her hand to his face and wiping his tear with a gentle caress.

His heart pounded at both the close proximity and for allowing her to catch him so unguarded. "Forgive me," he managed to choke out, "I've had a lot on my mind." He slowly lifted his eyes to his father's portrait once more.

Penelo lowered her hand to take his, giving it a gentle squeeze. She then turned to follow his gaze and saw the image of the late Emperor Gramis. She studied the portrait. "You miss him," she said. It wasn't a question, but rather, a statement of something she understood too well.

"Ever much so," Larsa confided, "I wish he were here so I may seek his counsel. I wish…" he took a moment to breathe, and his exhale came out as a sigh. "That I had spent more time with him."

"What would you ask him?"

"Today, at the meeting, Senator Caine suggested I drop Title II of the bill," Larsa began.

Penelo scoffed. "The part that actually abolishes the Chop System? But isn't that most of it?"

Larsa chuckled at her reaction. "Exactly. I thought it was ridiculous. But now I wonder: should I compromise that in order to open the gates? Would it be worth it? That is what I would ask him." He craned his neck to return his eyes to the images of Gramis and Vayne. "Growing up," Larsa continued, "he and Vayne were the most virtuous men I knew. However, I was blinded by my love for them, living in the darkness of which they enshrouded me."

Penelo frowned, sympathetic eyes reflecting the amber lights of the hallway. "They were just protecting you."

Larsa couldn't accept that. "They were only protecting themselves," he countered, the grit in his voice catching Penelo off-guard, and she let go of his hand, taking a step back. "Had the citizens known the truth of Dalmasca's condition, they would have protested. Had they known how King Raminas was slain, how Nabradia fell, and Landis… they would have protested the war; they would have demanded the Senate impeach House Solidor."

Penelo closed her eyes and bowed her head in misplaced remorse.

Larsa heaved a heavy sigh. "Now that I find myself wishing to seek his aid, I wonder… were he here, would it even be wise to heed him?"

So torn Larsa was inside, his gut twisted, and were Penelo not here, he would laugh hysterically at his own indecision. His eyes drifted to the portrait of Vayne, and although it was merely an image of his late brother, Larsa still felt those piercing eyes look upon him with judgment. Beyond the grave, Vayne Solidor was laughing at him, Larsa was sure of it.

"I don't think it would be," Penelo admitted. Larsa glanced down to see Penelo looking up at him again, determination burning in her honey-brown eyes. "Larsa, remember when we met? When you told me who you were, I was scared of you. I was scared because I assumed you were just like your brother. You were the son of the Emperor who laid siege to my country so ruthlessly…"

He remembered the way she gasped when he told her Vayne was his brother. The look of fear in her eyes as he spoke with her in the drawing room of Marquis Ondore's estate. He hoped she would never have to look at anyone that way again.

"But it was when I got to know who you really were, when I realized how different you were from your family… that was when I decided to trust you. Not because you gave me your word that you would protect me, but because you followed through; you did what Vayne failed to do."

Penelo took a step towards him, and she was so close that Larsa could lean forward and kiss her if he had the courage.

"Larsa: as long as you stay true to yourself, always doing the right thing… I will follow you, and so will your people."

Her words were touching, and Larsa couldn't stop the second tear from streaming down his face. He blinked oncoming tears away before they could show, and he smiled at Penelo, wondering what he did to deserve her in his life. He wiped the second tear away himself.

"But…" Penelo continued, "I understand why you would want to reach out to him. When I lost my parents, I didn't know what to do: especially when my mother passed. I always wanted to be like her. She was a seamstress; and she was _really_ good. She had her own shop at Murthru, and she would make costumes for our local dance troupes. I learned as much as I could from her, and I wanted to help run her business when I grew up."

Her lips parted to reveal a stunning smile. "But then I learned to dance, and discovered that I loved it so much more. After that, sewing just became a chore to me. I realized: I only did it because I loved my mom and wanted to be like her when I grew up, not out of any joy for sewing."

In all the years Larsa had known her, Penelo barely spoke of her late mother. He always wished to know more about her past, with her parents and her brothers in Rabanastre, before plagues and Imperial soldiers came and took them all away from her. Knowing his country had a part in their deaths, he could never muster the courage to ask. Or rather, he didn't have the right to. He thought perhaps for her it would hurt too much to speak of them. But as she recalled memories of her mother, Penelo showed nothing but joy, and it was a testament to the pure strength she carried in her heart.

Larsa couldn't help but smile with her. "And so instead you became the dancer your mother would design costumes for."

"Yes," Penelo nodded, closing her eyes and smiling softly as she let her body sway; she looked as though she were dreaming. "Wouldn't it be great if she were here to see me now?"

Larsa held his breath. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he upset her? He didn't intend to remind her of the future she would never have with her mother…

But before Larsa could apologize, Penelo opened her eyes and smiled at him, much to his relief. "So really, Larsa, if it doesn't feel right, don't follow in your father's footsteps. There are always other people you can look up to. Maybe other family, the Judges, Basch, Ashe…"

He leaned in closer to her. "And you," he added.

Surprised at his words, Penelo's eyes widened, and she grinned as though he had told a joke; which was absurd, because she was a more worthy role model than most people he knew. "Me?" she questioned. "You're funny, Larsa. And what empire have I ruled?"

"Your troupe."

Her laughter was warm and charming as ever. "Once again you make it out to be more than it is."

Larsa shook his head. "By no means," he assured. "Penelo, when you returned dance to Rabanastre, you demonstrated to the people your vision of a future full of life: a vision they considered worth following. You built a community out of a shared passion, and led your students towards a new purpose. That is nothing short of commendable."

Throughout his compliments, Penelo lowered her gaze to the floor, trying to hide a humble smile.

A _beautiful_ humble smile.

He reached out to her with his right hand, and slowly, gently, lifted her chin until he saw glossy honey eyes, and he could appreciate her full beauty. "Do not sell yourself short," he said. "Take claim to what you have created. You have done something far greater than you know. Take pride in it; you deserve to."

He wished he could take his own advice.

Penelo nodded once. "Okay. I'll try."

A moment passed before he realized he was staring at her. He quickly retracted his hand from her chin, and cleared his throat.

"So, how did you fare on your first official day as Ambassador of Dalmasca?"

"Oh, I did fine. Well, until I tried to get back into the palace." Penelo lowered her eyes before nervously glancing down the other end of the hall where the guards stood at their post.

Larsa followed her glance. "What happened?"

"Oh, it's no big deal; it's just," her voice went soft, "One of the guards refused to let me in because he didn't believe I owned the sandalwood you gave me."

Larsa closed his eyes and shook his head. _I knew this would happen; I warned Ashe as such._ "I am sorry this happened to you," he said, "This is the exact behavior I wish to correct." _And this is exactly what I feared when Ashe proposed the idea to send an ambassador._ "What was his name?"

"Um, Remas, I think. That's what Senator Rhys called him."

"Senator Rhys was there?"

Penelo's eyes reignited. "Yes," she nodded, "He helped me get into the palace. Then he invited me to have tea with him."

Larsa was surprised and pleased to know Penelo had spoken to a senator. "Oh?" he pressed.

"He seems nice," Penelo said, "I think he really supports you." Her smile was sly as though she were exchanging gossip she shouldn't; however, the reveal was of no surprise to Larsa. "What do you know about him?" Penelo asked.

"Danfordt Brutias Rhys," Larsa sounded as though he were reciting a passage from a textbook. "He was elected to the Senate in 706 with all votes in favor. He is currently serving his second term, as one of the three leaders. He is the grandson of Lord Brutias Rhys – the man who is hosting this year's Council of Ivalice at his theatre – remember?"

"His grandfather? What about his father?"

"Yes," Larsa gaze darkened, "His father was Claudias Rhys, former member of the Senate until his death. Claudias was executed… along with my eldest brothers – for treason. They conspired to take the Empire from my father."

"What?" Penelo gasped.

"Worry not," Larsa promptly shook his head, "I believe we should never judge one on the actions of their family. Elsewise, I would be a hypocrite."

That was true, Penelo admitted. It was unfair that so many people assumed Larsa was no different than his father and brother, and Penelo spent much energy trying to convince the many skeptical Rabanastrans that the Empire was not a threat under Larsa's rule. "That's true," Penelo nodded, "I'll keep an open mind."

Larsa smiled. "Thank you. And I am glad he was there to help you." _It would have been myself were my hands not tied._ "I shall thank him for his aid. And I assure you, Remas will see the consequences of his actions."

"Thank you."

"Outside of that incident, I trust everything else went well?"

Penelo then looked to the side, smiling guiltily. "Yes. Although… today I did something I'm not exactly proud of."

Larsa raised his brows. "What did you do?"

Her eyes returned to him, reluctantly. "I… indulged."

"Oh?" Larsa grinned, "Did you try the Landisian ice cream I showed you yesterday?"

Penelo chuckled as she shook her head. "No. I… bought a dress from a boutique in Tsenoble."

It was surprising that she would do that; He had no idea she was interested in Archadian fashion.

"Originally it was too expensive for me," Penelo explained, "but Augustia cut me a deal if I agreed to model dresses for her." She shrugged. "I wasn't strong enough to resist."

"That is a great opportunity," Larsa insisted, "Augustia is one of the most popular designers in Archades."

However, that didn't seem to put Penelo at ease. "I don't know," she shook her head and allowed her shoulders to droop. "I don't think I'm the right person for this. I should just return the dress to her tomorrow and back out of the deal."

"Wait," Larsa protested. "Will you at least allow me to see the dress first? Perhaps I can persuade you to keep it?" He offered her a smile, hoping it would be enough to convince her.

Penelo sighed. "Alright," she gave in, pointing a finger at him. "But you better not."

Larsa grinned as she took his hand and led him down the hallway towards the elevator.

She flashed a mock glare at him. "And you have to eat something afterwards," she ordered, "and _drink the tea_."

...

* * *

...

On the red and gold coverlet of Penelo's bed, Larsa sat, sipping the mildly bitter tea made from the cactoid flower. While he had no doubt of the tea's effectiveness, there was nothing that could calm him knowing Penelo was undressing just behind the wall of her closet. He anxiously waited, listening to her fiddle with flowing fabrics and zippers. He was delighted that she was actually going to allow him to see her wear the dress, after all, he had only requested to see the dress itself.

He was looking to the floor, watching his own tapping foot, when she finally stood before him and sighed. He gingerly placed the teacup and saucer down on the nightstand so he was free to give her his full attention.

His eyes followed shimmering rhinestones up a cascading waterfall, until he realized that it was not a waterfall, but instead, ocean waters meeting the shimmering sand of a shoreline. And after his journey, his eyes landed on the flushed skin of Penelo's cheeks, her eyes glancing to the side nervously.

Larsa had never witnessed a sight so beautiful in his life. He didn't understand why she seemed to be ashamed.

"There," Penelo sighed, "Stupid, right? Why did I think I would actually wear this? I'm going to return it tomorrow."

And with a blink of an eye, Penelo had already started heading towards the closet, shimmering ocean waters fading away. The skirts of the dress flowed smoothly with the sway of her hips, and it reminded Larsa of the ballgowns the noble women wore to the galas he had attended every year since he was born.

"Wait," Larsa pleaded, and Penelo turned around, confused. "Please don't return it. I think the partnership is an excellent idea."

"You do?"

"Yes," Larsa nodded, "It shows that Dalmasca is interested in cooperation, and it shows you have the approval of a seamstress well-respected amongst the gentry. People will grow to respect you in association."

Penelo shrugged, "I thought it might be a good way to encourage the trade deal too. Augustia said she's interested in making dresses with materials from Dalmasca."

"So it's settled then? You will keep the dress?" Larsa hoped.

"Well, maybe…" Penelo walked over to her vanity dresser and gazed into the mirror as though she would find an answer in her reflection. "But I don't even know what occasion I'd wear this for."

The image of Penelo twirling in the dress graced his mind. "The Midsummer Festival!" Larsa blurted, immediately bolting out of his seat, approaching her. "There will be a gala held for the gentry; will you dance with me?" He held out his hand in offer. Penelo glanced at it with caution before taking it, and he pulled himself close to her and took her waist, ready to waltz. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks pink, or perhaps he imagined it.

Larsa looked to their shared reflection in the mirror, and he could see it all: the ballroom, the noble ladies in their gowns and the gentlemen in their dress coats, their intrigued expressions at something they've never seen before. "Imagine: if the gentry see us dance together, what will they think?"

"Cooperation?" Penelo offered.

"Beyond that," he turned to her and smiled. "Friendship," he said, yet he said it with the weight of something more. "As you said yesterday, while we cannot force change, we still have the power to influence."

Penelo smiled in return, her cheeks still pink, and Larsa must have been dreaming, surely. "I think it's a great idea."

...

* * *

_..._

_Penelo,_

_Firstly, I apologize for the abrupt manner in which I explained your assignment, and I wish to thank you for accepting such an unprecedented task. This is important not only for Archadia's future, but for Dalmasca's as well._

_Once the Chop System is abolished and all of Archades' entrance prerequisites are lifted, we can introduce an agreement to eliminate all tariffs on goods traded between Archadia and Dalmasca. This can boost the economies of both countries; however, this we can only accomplish should Larsa's bill pass through the Senate. Although I feel no need to repay those who have wronged us, Larsa has fought alongside us for Dalmasca's sovereignty, while asking for nothing in return. If we can help him reach his goal, our debt will be settled._

_Do not disclose our plans for a free trade agreement. I have already discussed this plan with Larsa, however no one else must know the truth just yet. A negative response can hinder the progress of Larsa's bill. Not all Archadians see trade with Dalmasca as valuable. They might see the bill as a means for Dalmasca to profit, and after all they have paid for the reconstruction of Rabanastre and other damages from the war, this would not sit well with those who do not wish to see our success._

_However, if you find those who do understand that there will be economic growth on all sides, simply hinting at the possibility of a trade deal could be of help. A positive reaction can further drive our cause for international trade._

_Above everything, I require from you only one focus: Show the people of Archades an example of a future with a Dalmascan living in their city peacefully. For all else, trust in your intuition – there is a reason I chose you for this task. _

_Work together with Larsa; cooperation is the only way we can assure our success. It was your friendship that inspired me all those years ago, and it can inspire others._

_With Warm Regards,_

_Ashe_

_..._

Penelo looked over the letter and sighed, knowing full well that in her response she would have to disclose her altercation with the guard, Remas. After all, it was her duty to report any mistreatment, and she would never disobey her Queen and friend, right?

_Right?_

It was only one man, after all. If judging Larsa and Senator Rhys based on the actions of their family was unfair, so would judging all of Archadia by the behavior of a few. They were all influenced by the leaders of the past. It would be unrealistic to expect open minds from every citizen, especially only five years after war.

Penelo couldn't ignore her heart's plea that Archades deserved another chance. Everyone deserved second chances, didn't they? It should be no different for that man, even if he was rude. After all, he was born and raised in a world that taught him to live in hatred, through no choice of his own. Even though that certainly didn't excuse his behavior, she didn't wish to judge him as harshly as he did her. However, while she was willing to forgive so easily, she wasn't sure Ashe would do the same.

And so instead she wrote about Augustia, the seamstress who once designed a dress inspired by the Estersand and chosen Penelo to promote her clothing. She also wrote the story of Markas, the soldier who regretted his actions in Rabanastre. And Lacinda, the reporter from Landis who used her paper to tell the story of Rabanastre's emerging dance troupes. Those made for much more promising stories, didn't they?

Penelo's heart raced as she signed her name on the letter of omitted truths.

_I'm sorry, Ashe._

_..._

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Leave a review if you enjoyed!


	9. Roulette

**Author's note: Welcome back! I have returned with another chapter! This was a fun one for me to write; I hope you enjoy it too!**

**...**

**8\. Roulette**

**...**

_Over the years, the poor and downtrodden from neighboring towns received word of the new city Archadias was building and relocated there in hopes to begin their lives anew and earn a fortune. As both the population and city expanded, Archadias declared himself King of his new city-state._

_With the labor of indentured servants and underpaid newcomers, Archadias built a great palace for himself, his family, and all their riches._

_Little did he know that many generations later, that palace would sink into the caves below it, along with his prosperity._

_– DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"_

_..._

* * *

...

A Dalmascan woman in an Archadian dress.

The cross-cultural concept had come to Larsa's mind once or twice before, but seeing it in reality was another thing altogether.

The dress cascaded and shined brilliantly, as all Archadian ball gowns did. It reminded him of every gala and festival he ever attended since he was small child, and the joy it brought him to see everyone together. It was one of the few nights a year his lord father was free to enjoy with him and Vayne. There was music, dancing, delicious food and good company. Although the gentry often attended these events with ulterior motives to flaunt their own prestige and promote their businesses, Larsa enjoyed himself all the same.

The sight of a Dalmascan woman wearing such a gown was inspiring – symbolic, even, of what the future could hold if everyone simply opened their minds to new possibilities.

The shimmering blue gown accentuated Penelo's already stunning features, and Larsa wished so much for everyone to see an exotic beauty such as hers. What a shame it was that there were not more Dalmascans able to visit Archades, to join in celebration of the onset of summer – sharing stories, food, dance, clothing…

There should be _more _of this: Dalmascans, Archadians and Rozarrians all appreciating each other's cultures. There was so much they could learn from each other.

Then, a thought occurred: if the gentry were to see this with their own eyes, perhaps it would inspire them as it did him.

And so Larsa thought a performance with Penelo could help his people see what he saw, but would it be enough? It could prove to be a catalyst for conversation, sure, and it would steer their minds in the right direction. However, for the Senate, it would not suffice; they were not so impressed by flashy performances and symbolism

However, if the citizens knew of his plans for a future of immigration and equal opportunity, they could urge the Senate to support the bill, and the Senate would have no choice but to oblige. Other than chops and gil, nothing could persuade a senator more than their reputation in the public eye.

_This is it._

A surge of energy flowed through him. Larsa spun Penelo suddenly, lowering her into a dip. "Penelo," he said, "I know what to do."

She blinked up at him, confused. "About the music?"

Larsa shook his head excitedly. "No - about the senate."

However that didn't seem to clarify things as Penelo furrowed her brows.

"I will announce my plan to end the chop system to the public," Larsa declared, "at the festival, where I can easily gather everyone together."

Penelo inhaled a small gasp.

"With the pressure of public opinion, the senate would have no choice but to vote in favor."

Penelo was speechless, but her eyes spoke volumes - of concern. He lifted her to her feet. "Tis a gamble, I know. There is no guarantee they will all take to it at first. But if this works, it will be the key to our victory. This is a chance I am willing to take. I trust in the end my people will make the right decision."

Penelo nodded. "But can you really trust them with that much power?"

"I must. I could not bear to write a law they truly do not wish to follow. My father once told me that the emperor and the senate must bear the burden of government so that the citizens would be free of worry. But I disagree; I believe the people should be aware of what we are doing, and they should be involved in the decisions that would affect their lives and the lives of others."

Finally, Penelo's expression softened into a smile. "I agree," she nodded.

...

* * *

...

Penelo and Balthier found seats at a small metal table near the Sommer's Ice Cream stall at the Orbonne Market. The bustling plaza was filled with Orbonne citizens either passing through, shopping, or standing in ridiculously long lines for Landisian dessert in hopes to alleviate the heat of the midday sun.

Penelo focused intently on the creamy frozen dessert in front of her, swirling it around in a glass bowl with a small, silver spoon. It was strange to her - much different than the frozen cactoid pears she and Vaan had at home. She didn't even know which flavor to choose, so she went with what seemed like the safest choice: vanilla.

But it was hard for her to relax and enjoy her dessert with Larsa's earlier decision on her mind. While announcing his bill to the public could put him at an advantage, it could also put him in more danger. If the culprit really was a member of the senate, this announcement could push them even further. _I wish Vaan was here; maybe he could have kept an eye on Larsa while Balthier and I figured out who's trying to kill him._

All she could do was hope that Basch never left Larsa's side.

"Keep swirling it like that, and it will melt faster," Balthier warned.

Smiling guiltily, Penelo finally scooped a spoonful of ice cream and took her first bite. Cold on her tongue, the ice cream was refreshing in the summer heat. It was smooth, and the sweetness balanced well with the tart berries she had chosen for her topping.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about something."

Balthier placed his spoon down into his bowl of ice cream: chocolate, no toppings. "Mm? Care to share?"

"There's something important you should know."

Balthier leaned forward, finely-groomed brows quirked.

Penelo glanced at the people around her; no one seemed to be listening. Softly, she spoke. "Larsa plans to announce the bill to the entire city at the Midsummer Festival."

Balthier's usual relaxed demeanor melted faster than the ice cream. "Is he mad?"

"People are already spreading that rumor," Penelo sighed, "Please don't contribute to it."

"Well he must be begging for a dagger to his back if he is announcing this to the public."

Penelo huffed. Did he have to insult Larsa? He really had no faith, did he? She made sure to shoot him a glare before taking another bite of her ice cream, which had started to melt.

Balthier held his hands up in surrender. "Alright," he said, "No need to glare; I was being honest. Unfortunately we will have to discuss this later, because I have news for you as well." Balthier pointed his spoon at her, "That reporter you tipped me off about – Joras of _Tsenoble Report_ \- I found him."

Penelo returned her eyes to him, waiting.

"Quite the little snake, that one. He wouldn't give information without setting up an appointment first. So, I scheduled one: for this afternoon."

Penelo's heart quickened at the news of progress. "Then what are we doing sitting around here for?"

Balthier's lips quirked as he held up a spoonful of ice cream. "Why, enjoying the finer things in life, of course," he said before slowly taking a bite, then closing his eyes as his face melted in ecstasy.

How he found the ability to relax at a time like this was beyond her knowing.

...

* * *

...

Penelo and Balthier made their way to Central: a building appropriately named for its role as the hub of information and transportation in Archades, as well for its location within the city. One sandalwood was required for entry into the building, so Penelo had leant Balthier one of hers'.

Joras had agreed to meet them on the top floor balcony: a popular destination to share afternoon tea with friends and business partners. It was also a popular spot to share information.

Penelo and Balthier sat across from Joras at a bistro table near the corner of the balcony. Aircabs whirred in the air over the whispers of men and women gossiping as they enjoyed cups of tea and trays of pastries from the café.

"How is the tea?" Joras asked, putting on a polite smile.

Balthier winced as he swished the tea in his mouth, and frowned as he swallowed. "As weak as it always was. I'd say my palate leans more towards Dalmascan these days."

Joras' smile seemed a little too tight. "And what about you, Ambassador - Penelo, is it?"

Penelo quickly finished sipping and placed the cup on the saucer. "Yes, it's Penelo, and I like Archadian tea; it's sweet." She gave him a pleasant smile. _He did say I was beautiful when we met. Giving him a few extra smiles can't hurt. _

However, it seemed Balthier didn't want to waste time on pleasantries.

"So," he said, causing the saucer to rattle as he placed his cup down. "You know why we're here: we wish to know where you heard this rumor about Larsa falling ill."

Joras pulled out a notepad and began writing. "Yes, and I agreed to meet you here," the reporter straightened his posture, cautiously looking at Penelo through the sun's glare on his spectacles. "However, I will only tell you for the right price."

_Of course._ Penelo didn't expect him to give the information for free. Then, she remembered the pinewood chop she had earned from Lacinda, reporter for _The Orbonne Times. _Penelo dug through her purse to fish it out. _You never know when you will need information_, Larsa had told her. Well, she certainly needed it now.

Penelo pulled the chop out of her bag and offered it to Joras. "Will this do?"

The reporter's lips pursed, disappointed. "A simple pinewood chop? While I am not opposed to earning as much as I can get, this information is worth well more than that, I'm afraid."

_Damn the gentry._ "This is all I have to spare," Penelo sighed, making sure to look as discouraged as possible.

Joras' expression softened. "Worry not, Ambassador. I may have a solution for you." Penelo perked up. Perhaps he had a soft spot for a damsel in distress after all. "In addition to that pinewood chop, you can answer just one question, and we have a deal."

Balthier eyed the reporter suspiciously. "And if she refuses?"

Joras' lips curled into a smirk. "No deal."

Penelo looked to Balthier. "It's your call," he said to her.

She nodded at Joras and took a deep breath. "Okay."

Penelo watched closely as Joras took another sip of tea and scribbled a line in his notepad. "Ambassador Penelo, answer me this, in full truth: why are you here in Archades?"

It was as though her heart stopped and raced all at once.

She worried this would happen - that she would be forced to give information she was explicitly asked not to give. There were two reasons why she was here: to help Larsa pass his bill, and help Ashe determine if Archadia was ready to open its arms to Dalmasca. Did she have to tell him both? He said he wanted "the full truth," but then again, how was he supposed to know if what she gave him was indeed the full truth?

Just one thing. But which answer should she give him?

Larsa was already planning to announce his bill to the entire city, but Penelo didn't want to ruin that by leaking the information early. She would never forgive herself for that, and neither would Larsa, so that certainly wasn't an option.

That only left her with option two.

Why did it have to come to this?

She understood why Ashe wanted to keep the trade agreement a secret; anyone could take that information and twist it for their gain, to the detriment of Ashe and the entirety of Dalmasca. People might think the underlying purpose of this bill was for the benefit of Dalmasca at the cost of Archadia's own prosperity, and who knows what else they might think.

If this went bad, Penelo would certainly lose her job, although that was the least of her worries: she could always go back to dancing, after all. However, if she ruined this, the trade agreement would be off, and tensions between Archadia and Dalmasca would be high. She would be a traitor.

But… if Larsa dies there would be no trade agreement anyway. Ashe was already cautious by nature, but especially so after all she had lost at the hands of The Empire. Were any stranger to take the throne after Larsa's demise, the chances of Ashe proceeding with the deal would be slim at best.

This would be her reasoning; hopefully Ashe would understand. Perhaps if Penelo begged, Ashe would pardon her, and she would still allow her to work in the Royal Palace scrubbing floors. It would be an honor to clean the toilets, even.

"Please, Ambassador," Joras' voice shook her out of her thoughts, and now her heart raced at the reminder that he was waiting for her answer. "For the people of Archades: they are very curious about you."

Penelo decided to give Balthier once last glance. He shrugged, nodding towards Joras with an expression that said: _Just give him something._

Returning her eyes to Joras' poring gaze, Penelo took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. "Queen Ashelia has expressed interest in drafting a trade agreement with Archadia," Penelo spoke with a modest attempt at impersonating Ashe, "She sent me here to assess the situation, and determine if it would be wise to proceed."

A grin spread across Jora's long face. "Now that is news!" he said, scribbling her words onto his notepad.

"And you are the first to hear of it," Balthier said, "Now: give us what we want."

Joras stopped writing, his grin simmered down to a satisfied smirk. "Yes, the rumors of Lord Larsa falling ill - I paid a generous price for it - from a man named Jules. But if you want to know where to find him, that will cost you extra."

Balthier's face froze.

_Jules._ Penelo remembered him from her first visit to Archadia. _He was the man who used us to get into Archades, while pretending to help us - then he stole our chops! What a jerk!_

Joras held his pen to his notepad, eager for more. "So: how about more details on that trade agreement for Jules' location?"

"Put your pen down," metal scraped against tile as Balthier stood from his chair. "I know where to find him." He redirected his gaze from Joras' frown to Penelo. "It's time to go; we got what we needed." He turned and headed towards the door.

Penelo handed the pinewood chop to Joras. "Thank you for your help," she said, offering him one last smile before getting out of her seat to leave.

Once inside Central, a shadow cast over Balthier's eyes. "I hope you know you are taking a risk entrusting him with that information," he spoke to Penelo in hushed tones, "You know well he will run with it whichever way he sees fit to support _The Tsenoble Report_\- and thus, the gentry. However, using the term 'expressed interest' may just save you."

"I know, but… I have to do whatever it takes to save Larsa's life. Dalmasca is fine without Archadia, but without Larsa…"

"The peace we have now would be no more."

"Exactly."

"Right," Balthier nodded, "We should move then. Jules is in Tsenoble."

...

* * *

...

The late afternoon sun almost blinded Penelo as it glinted off the windows of the prestigious residential tower known as Elysium. With her hand, she had to shield her eyes just to look at the Tsenoble monolith. "How does one man get so rich so quickly?" Penelo wondered out loud.

"By playing dirty," Balthier answered before heading to the front entrance.

The main lobby was spacious and clean, decorated with water fountains and large abstract paintings. It was vastly devoid of other humes, minus the receptionist who greeted the pair with a simple smile as they strode past her, directly to the elevators.

"Walk in like you own the place, and no one questions you," Balthier whispered to Penelo over his shoulder.

The elevator hummed quietly as they ascended. "How did you know where he is?" Penelo asked.

"Oh, ever since our incident with him, I make it a habit of knowing his whereabouts whenever I'm in town – mainly just to steer clear of him." Balthier shrugged. "Today, unfortunately, is an exception. It was long ago I left, but I still have my sources of information."

After seemingly forever, the elevator stopped with a ding, just a few floors below the top of the building. Together the pair strode down the hallway until they reached room 1202. "Be ready to enter the snake pit," Balthier warned just before pressing the doorbell.

Penelo was surprised to see that it wasn't Jules who appeared behind the automatic door, but a young woman in a beautiful violet dress. "Hello," her long chestnut hair shined just as brightly as her welcoming grin, "How can I help you?"

"We're here to see Jules," Balthier said.

"As luck would have it," her voice was quiet and melodic, like a lullaby. "Mr. Jules is free at this moment." She pulled out a pen and what looked like a guestbook. "May I have your names?"

"This is Ambassador Penelo," Balthier gestured to Penelo with his thumb.

After writing Penelo's name, she directed her practiced smile at Balthier. "And yours?"

Balthier eyed the guestbook suspiciously. "Anonymous," he said, to which the woman accepted with a shrug and an amused smile.

_I guess he doesn't want anyone knowing the notorious sky pirate Balthier was here._

"Thank you," the woman grinned, "My name is Lyra; please follow me."

Penelo and Balthier followed her to a sitting room furnished with three couches and a coffee table. Everything was white with accents of gold, and immaculately cleaned.

"Please have a seat," Lyra gestured to the couches, "Mr. Jules will be with you shortly."

Penelo sat timidly, careful not to wrinkle the couch cushion. Balthier didn't seem to share the same concern; he landed with a plop, limbs spread. "The bastard has a damn waiting room and an assistant," he huffed, eyes scanning the room. "Nice place though, I admit."

Penelo's gaze drifted over to the coffee table, which was bare save for several issues of _The Tsenoble Report_. She picked up the copy closest to her, dated one week ago. In bold, the headline read:

**LORD RHYS TO HOST COUNCIL OF IVALICE IN BARBANAS THEATRE.**

Larsa had told her that information the day she arrived in Archades. She shouldn't waste time reading something she already knew. Her eyes scanned the paper, past the front page, the weather reports, entertainment and gossip, until an article from the business section caught her eye.

**BACCHUS CAINE, LEADER IN BUSINESS AND THE SENATE**

She proceeded to read the article.

..

Business is booming for Senator Bacchus Caine, whose liquor company, BACCHUS, just celebrated the grand opening of its second location in Tsenoble.

Before he was elected into the Senate in 706, Caine and his company were almost unheard of.

When asked how a man without noble blood or name ascended to his level of prominence, he said, "secrets of success should remain as such: secrets. If 'tis the key to success you wish to possess, you must seek its whereabouts yourself. After all, without the desire to learn and improve, we are nothing. And without struggle, can we truly call it 'success'?"

..

_He has a good point there,_ Penelo thought. But still, everyone needs at least a little bit of help. _It would be unfair to those who helped you if you didn't recognize their efforts._

Before she could read further, the clicking of heels on tile announced Lyra's return.

"Mr. Jules will see you now," she announced, "Right this way."

She led them through a hallway to the room at the very end. Stepping forward, she triggered the automatic doors, revealing a room with the most stunning view of Tsenoble money could buy. The windows expanded from one end of the room to the other, behind which Penelo could see clear blue skies and a series of vines covering the side of the balcony.

Lounging on a cushioned burgundy chair with a glass of red wine in his hand was the man they were looking for.

"Leave us," Jules dismissed Lyra with a wave. As soon as his assistant was gone, his lips curled into a smirk. "Well, well, well. To what do I owe the honor, Ffamran ?"

Balthier glared in response to his abandoned name.

Jules seemed unfazed by that, however, ignoring Balthier to grin at Penelo, revealing crooked teeth. "Penelo, 'tis a pleasure to see you after all these years, and as an Ambassador this time – quite impressive, I must say. Please," with his free hand, he lazily gestured to the two matching burgundy chairs across from him, "have a seat."

Penelo and Balthier took their seats. Jules eyed them with amusement as he took one last sip of wine before placing his goblet on the end table to his left. "How can I help you today?" he said as he crossed his legs, resting his hands in his lap. He wore fine leather boots and freshly pressed brown trousers and a loose white shirt. Gold rings adorned his laced fingers, the glint of it not unlike the greed in his eyes.

While his sideburns and goatee were simply more well-groomed versions of what Penelo remembered, everything else about his appearance was a far departure from the man she met on the streets of Old Archades.

"Who paid you to spread rumors about Larsa falling ill?" Balthier demanded.

Jules' body shook as he bellowed out a laugh. "That's what I always liked about you: so direct regarding your desires. Never was there a need for guessing games with you!"

"Cut the crap, Jules," Balthier growled, "Just name your price."

Jules' lips parted into a wicked grin. Even with all the gil in Ivalice, he refused to fix his crooked yellow teeth. "Oh? Unless you can compensate the income I would lose should I betray my client, I'm afraid I cannot sell you that information."

Balthier grimaced.

"Or did you honestly think I was fool enough to sell out one of my clients for a mere sandalwood chop?"

_Crap. He has a good point._

"So this is how you make a living now?" Balthier leaned back into his chair as he crossed his arms, "as a middle man of information?"

_A middle man of lies is more like it._

"Quite the niche I've carved out for myself, no? 'Tis the Archadian Dream, to climb so high on wits alone." His grin bared no shame at all for the grievances his climb to success had brought.

_You'll have to carve yourself another business once the Chop System is gone._

"So," Jules leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, "Which one of my reporters sold me out?"

Balthier leaned forward as well, mocking Jules' gesture. "If we tell you, what will you grant us in return?"

Jules' chuckle was low. "A hint at best. After all, I have other ways to find answers."

Balthier smirked. "Yes, but you don't have the time, do you? I saw the ledger; this morning alone you had twelve clients. That leaves you with fifteen minutes per client at most, and we're not on the schedule. Which means –"

Jules' smug face fell when Lyra appeared. "Mr. Jules," she said, "I apologize to interrupt, but Senator Caine has arrived for his appointment."

Penelo almost gasped. _Senator Caine?_

"Ever the early bird, that one," Jules said, failing to hide the irritation in his voice, "Send him in."

After Lyra left, Jules returned his gaze to Balthier. "The reporter?"

"Joras Rickard of Tsenoble Report," Balthier answered. "Our hint?"

"My client will be at the Summer Gala this weekend," Jules said, "Now, as you heard: a _paying_ customer awaits me." He gestured towards the door.

Penelo and Balthier left immediately.

"That was no hint," Balthier whispered to Penelo as they entered the hallway, "The entire gentry class will be at that gala. The man is a swine through and through." Penelo agreed, shaking her head in disappointment.

However, they soon found they were not alone in the hallway.

Just ahead, Lyra was escorting a man who was average of height, and broad of width. A brown doublet covered his cream silk shirt, but it failed to hide the girth of his belly. His graying hair was slicked back, displaying his receding hairline. A large hooked nose was flanked by two piercing gray eyes, and balanced by a large chin.

With those eyes, he caught Penelo's; and as she passed him in the hallway, his gaze travelled down her body, leering at her.

She couldn't get out of that building soon enough. However, her plans to dash were thwarted by Balthier's hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he whispered, "Aren't you curious?"

_Yes, but I'm also creeped out._ "Can we really get away with eavesdropping on Jules in his own home?" she whispered back.

_Maybe not_, Penelo thought, because Lyra was heading straight to them. "I apologize," Lyra said, "But unfortunately I am unable to escort you out at the moment, for I must prepare afternoon tea for our client. If you remember where the door is located, you are welcome to escort yourselves out."

It appeared fate was on their side after all.

"Of course, thank you Lyra," Penelo said, sending Jules' assistant off with a pleasant smile of her own.

As Lyra headed towards the kitchen, Penelo followed Balthier back towards Jules' office. They each carefully placed one ear against the door, keeping their bodies still and their lips sealed as they listened.

After a few seconds of squinting their eyes so intensely as though it would help them hear any better, Balthier broke their silence. "Damn these thick metal doors," he whispered.

All they could hear was silence at worst, and muffled mumbling at best, until one distinct line from Caine surfaced. "I told you it would work... now we must spread it like wildfire!" he exclaimed, followed by celebratory laughter.

The sharp whistle of a kettle from the kitchen alarmed them. "Tea is almost ready," Balthier warned, "we best make our exit."

Light on their toes, Penelo and Balthier glided their way through the apartment and left. As soon as they reached the elevator, Penelo released the air she had been holding in her lungs for what seemed like an eternity.

"I told you it would work…" Balthier repeated Caine's line over the hum of the elevator's descent. "What do you think he was referring to?"

"I don't know," Penelo took a deep breath, "But I have a bad feeling about him. Of all the senators, he's the one who has been giving Larsa the hardest time, even more than the Chairman. He openly opposes Larsa's bill."

Balthier's brown eyes narrowed as he focused on his thoughts. "We must learn more about him," he declared, "I admit: until yesterday, I've heard nothing of this Senator Caine. There is one conclusion I can draw from that: he must be new money."

"I read an article that said Caine doesn't come from a noble family; you really think it could be true?"

"I am most sure…" Balthier nodded, and then the ding of the elevator announced their arrival on the ground floor.

"Have a good day," the receptionist sent them off with a friendly wave. It was no wonder she didn't question them upon arrival; Jules had dozens of clients every day.

Once they stepped out onto the streets of Tsenoble, Penelo was relieved to feel the sun's warmth on her skin again. "What should we do?" she asked Balthier, her steps coming to a halt before they could reach the heavy foot traffic of the street.

"I have an idea," Balthier turned to her, "Do me a favour, would you? At the gala, dance with Caine; dance with _all_ the senators, in fact. Learn something about each of them and report back to me. I will be attending the gala as well."

"You will? But Balthier, how are you gonna get in without sandalwood?" Penelo asked, holding her hand out. "I'm gonna need mine back to re-enter the palace."

Balthier handed the chop to her with a smirk. "Oh worry not; I have my ways."

Knowing him, it was probably something illegal. Penelo shot him a suspicious glare.

Balthier's smirk fell and a shadow cast over his eyes. "Penelo, listen to me. You are Dalmasca's shiny new Ambassador; all eyes will be on you, including that of the Senate. They will want to know everything about you - use that to get information from them. Do not leave empty-handed."

Penelo took a deep breath, nodding. "Okay."

"I fear this is where we go our separate ways," Balthier said, a small smile curving his lips as he looked to the sky wistfully. "I have an errand to attend to in Rabanastre."

"Tell Vaan I say hi," Penelo returned the smile.

A charming wink was Balthier's parting remark before taking off towards the aerodrome with his signature swagger, igniting warmth in Penelo's face. He was _Vaan's_ boyfriend, sure, but she was allowed to _look_. Penelo sometimes wondered if she had a taste for Archadian men.

Speaking of which…

Her thoughts dwelled on the day before when she had met Senator Rhys. He said he wanted to see her again… and Balthier suggested she dance with all the senators…

_Maybe I can ask Rhys to be my date? Would that be too crazy?_

There was only one way to find out.

...

* * *

...

Appropriately named, The Senate Chambers served as the home of offices and meeting rooms to members of the Imperial Senate. The diamond-shaped building stood proudly across from the Imperial Palace, its brass walls glistening in the late afternoon light.

Penelo marched into the building like a woman on a mission, her chin held high and her posture straight. The receptionist kindly gave her directions to Senator Rhys's office, after Penelo presented her sandalwood, of course. Her heart pounded in her ears, almost drowning out her footsteps echoing in the long, cold corridors as she headed towards Rhys's office.

In her twenty-one years of life, Penelo hardly thought about dating. In Dalmasca's earlier days of peace, she remembered having a few crushes here and there, on boys from her neighborhood, as well as her school; she even had a small crush on Reks before the adoption, and her feelings changed to more of a sibling-like affection. During Archadia's occupation of Dalmasca, all of her energy went into survival, and after, she was focused solely on building a career in dance.

It had been seven years since her last date, when she was just fourteen years old, with a boy from her school named Emin. As such, her dating experience was limited to festivals in the Rabanastre town plaza, as well as chaperoned outings to the Muthru Bazaar for dessert as her brothers cracked jokes mere paces away. A formal gala held for the most elite members of Archadian society? Completely out of her league. Suddenly, she was grateful for the expensive gown she bought on impulse.

Penelo took a deep breath to calm herself when she arrived at the doors of Rhys's office. She almost instinctively knocked on the metal door before noticing that there was a doorbell just under the keypad.

The door hissed as it opened, and there stood Senator Rhys: tall, raven-haired, and ridiculously handsome.

Penelo craned her neck to look into his surprised indigo eyes. "Hi, Senator Rhys, I'm sorry to bother you," she smiled, proud of herself for not stammering. "I just have a question to ask, if you have the time."

Rhys's grin was stunning, teeth perfectly aligned and gleaming. "Certainly," he said. "I was hoping I would see you soon," he gestured to his office with an open hand. "Please, come in."

Chin held high, Penelo stepped through the doorway, past the Senator's encouraging smile. _Walk in like you own the place, just like Balthier said._ The office had a warmer, more homely atmosphere compared to the cold, tiled corridors outside. Dark blue carpet lined the floors, complimented by walls of mahogany bookshelves to her right and left.

Warm lamplight painted Rhys's face as he stepped backward and leaned against his desk: a more casual posture than what Penelo expected of him. "How does Archades treat you today?" he asked, "Better than yesterday, I hope?"

_Better than being accused of stealing sandalwood chops? Definitely._ Penelo almost snorted at the inside Joke. _Look, we already have inside jokes… wait: focus!_

Instead, she offered a delicate chuckle, smiling at him over her shoulder. "Much better; although yesterday wasn't all bad," she said, "The part where I got to have tea with a Senator was nice. Once again, I thank you for your help yesterday."

Rhys offered a humble smile and a nod. "It was my pleasure."

Trying to hide her blush, Penelo turned, proceeding further into the room. The shelves were completely filled with books, charmingly bathed in the warm, late afternoon light from the window. "This is an impressive collection you have," she said.

Pride beamed from the senator's voice alone. "And I've gathered only my favorites to accompany me to the office; the remainder of my collection rests at my estate."

"Of course," Penelo said. She walked past a row of books, scanning the titles, including: _The Rise and Fall of the Republic, Furniture Through the Ages, Poetry of the Gods, Tensions of Empire_, as well as an anthology called _The Ministry of Law_. "A man in your position should be knowledgeable."

"'Tis the Archadian way, after all," Rhys said. "I am glad to see you are learning our culture; perhaps you could teach me the ways of Dalmasca?"

_This is your opening_. Penelo pivoted smoothly, and offered Rhys a warm smile. "I would love to: Maybe while you escort me to the Midsummer Gala?"

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap that was terrible right? _ Penelo held her breath.

The Senator was silent for a moment, his brows lifted.

_Just get the rejection over with already._

His laugh was short but soft, and his smile could melt anyone. "That is an excellent idea! Of course; I would be honoured to escort you to the gala."

An enormous wave of relief washed over Penelo, and in her mind, all the choirs in Ivalice sang a hymn so beautiful she could cry.

Penelo flashed him a grin. "So it's a date; I'll see you then."

"I shall arrive at the palace to pick you up," he said. "I much look forward to dancing with you, Ambassador."

"Oh please, call me Penelo."

"As you wish, Penelo." he said. "Then perhaps a reintroduction is in order," he pushed away from his desk to stand at his full height, towering over her. He offered his hand. "Call me Danfordt."

Penelo approached him and took his hand, pretending she hadn't already learned his name from Larsa. "Nice to meet you again, Danfordt. I'll see you this weekend."

She allowed her eyes and hand to linger on him for just a moment before turning to stride out of his office.

The rush of success drove her, pumping her heart maddeningly as she marched through the halls that were no longer cold.

_Everything is in place now,_ Penelo thought. Although she didn't know who was spreading the rumors about Larsa, or why, she did know where to find them. _And now I have a chance to get information out of Senator Rhys, too._

With the investigation on pause until the festival, she could finally return to her primary focus: showing Archades a world not above, but alongside Dalmascans.

_Larsa's waiting for me; we have a very important dance to choreograph._

_..._

* * *

**Author's note: Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!**


	10. The Pot, I

**10\. The Pot, I**

_..._

_Seeking aid in his rule, King Archadias appointed six of the most wealthy, educated men to serve as his council of advisors. One of these men was trusted by the King more than others, and even spoke for him in meetings when he was unable to attend. His name was Barbanas Rhys. Together they designed their new kingdom for their own benefit, and to the detriment of the working class._

_ – DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"_

...

* * *

...

Penelo's thoughts were a downward spiral of nerves.

It had been five days since she met with Joras, the journalist from _the Tsenoble Report_, and revealed to him Ashe's plan to introduce a free trade agreement with Archadia if Larsa's bill were to pass. Although he had yet to write an article about it, Penelo couldn't shake the feeling of dread weighing on her like a bad sleep spell. _What is he waiting for_, she wondered, _that is front page material! _She almost wished he would publish the article just so she could stop worrying about it.

Not to mention, after tracking down Jules, Penelo and Balthier had left practically empty-handed. "My client will be at the Summer Gala this weekend," Jules had said. The ballroom would be filled with hundreds of gentry, how were they supposed to figure out which one was responsible for the rumors?

She took a deep breath. Worrying wouldn't help her. _Calm down,_ Penelo mentally scolded herself. _Focus on what we're here to do today._ She must gather enough information to figure out which person in the sea of gentry she planned to dance with tonight was their culprit: the person who intended to murder their emperor.

"Have you attended an Archadian gala before?" Senator Rhys – Danfordt, he had asked her to call him – said in a smooth voice that lured Penelo out of her thoughts, and she welcomed it. He had picked her up from the palace as promised; surprising her with the most luxurious aircab she had seen in her life. It was longer than most aircabs, and behind the driver's seat it contained two benches of passenger seats facing each other, giving ample room to lounge. The interior was sleek and spotless, and built into each door was a compartment for refreshments: glass bottles of water and wine tucked in ice, which Penelo dared not to touch.

Rhys sat on the bench across from her, poised and at ease, looking like a million gil in his silk brocade dresscoat. He crossed his legs as he sipped on cold water, awaiting her answer.

If Penelo was going to figure out who's who at this gala, she would start with Rhys.

_Smile, Penelo. It's showtime!_

"No, I haven't," Penelo shook her head.

"'Tis a shame," Rhys said. There was a small smirk at the corner of his lips as he eyed her, "Archadian gowns suit you."

Heat rose in Penelo's cheeks. "Thank you," she said, shrugging as she looked down at the ball gown she had bought from Augustia. "I wasn't sure if it would," she confessed. The turquoise gown shimmered subtly in the low light of the aircab, and there was a brief moment where Penelo felt disconnected from the body wearing a dress that was far too extravagant for her.

"I especially favor your choice in jewelry," Rhys added, his eyes focused on Penelo's necklace. It was a geometric masterpiece of gilded brass that had been strung together by Penelo's dance mentor, Malikah, who made it for her when they decided to start a troupe together. "'Tis quite unique; I don't believe I've seen anything like it."

To match the necklace, Penelo added other pieces of gilded jewelry: A spiral bangle wrapped around her left arm like a Giza wildsnake, along with beaded bracelets that attached to one ring on each hand. She thought the gold color would match well with the ocean palette of her dress.

Pairing Dalmascan jewelry with an Archadian dress was a risky fashion choice. Penelo worried it might clash, but to her relief it appeared Rhys thought otherwise. "Thank you," Penelo glanced down at her beloved necklace and bracelets. "These were handmade in Rabanastre. I, uh… usually wear them for dance performances." Penelo smiled stiffly, hoping the dim light would obscure the senator's chance to see that it wasn't solid gold. She didn't wish to bear shame for jewelry that was sentimental to her, yet she couldn't seem to stifle the side of her that wanted to impress him.

Rhys's grin was especially bright within the darkness of the aircab. "You pair Dalmascan jewelry with an Archadian gown," he said, "Perhaps you will be featured in _the Tsenoble Report's _next fashion trendsetter column."

Penelo blushed again. Could she? It would be an honor if she were portrayed in such a positive light by the gentry. As a Dalmascan…

This attention was too much for her.

"Thank you." Penelo looked to Rhys, whose own clothing was just as exquisite, perhaps more so. He wore an indigo dresscoat that matched his eyes, with an impressive pattern of vines threaded in ice blue. The summer dresscoat was thin and designed to be open, showing off the elaborate design of the doublet he wore beneath. "You look marvellous yourself, by the way," Penelo returned, "the stitching on your doublet is so intricate."

In silver threads against indigo, a great bird held its wings outspread, ready to take flight. Behind the bird was a system of tree roots, winding their way around the bird, forming a round shield. Rhys pulled one side of his coat, giving Penelo a better look. "Do you like it? I had it made especially for this occasion."

"It's beautiful," Penelo commented, "And now that I think about it, I recognize that bird from somewhere."

"Oh?" Rhys raised his brows, "Either you are an avid reader of bestiaries, or you have paid a visit to the Cerobi Steppe. This is the Cherybterix; the symbol of House Rhys."

_Just like how House Solidor is represented by the twin serpents._ Penelo wondered how symbols were first chosen to represent a House: if there was a particular meaning to it. What did this symbol say about House Rhys? And what did the fierce serpents say of House Solidor? "Actually, I've been to the Cerobi Steppe," she said, "although it's been a few years."

"Not alone, I hope?"

"Oh no," Penelo shook her head, "I had a party with me. However, that doesn't mean I wouldn't be able to handle myself if I were." She dared a small smirk. "I'm tougher than I look."

Rhys raised his brows. "Truly?"

"Yes," Penelo nodded proudly, "I am a mage, you know."

"Incredible," Rhys's indigo eyes piqued as though he were a sky pirate discovering new treasure. He leaned against the armrest to his side, resting his chin above his strong, yet elegant fingers. "May I dare ask what kind?"

"Oh, I've dabbled in all kinds of magick." Penelo downplayed her skills. After the gruelling months of spellcasting in Ashe's defense, she had done more than just 'dabble'; she had nearly mastered several of them. "However, I specialize in white and black magick. I heard I've got a pretty mean Blizzaga."

Rhys chuckled softly. "From the moment I read about you in _The Tsenoble_ _Report_, I knew you would be interesting," he said, sitting up straight again. "I also practice magick. However, it is only time magick I am partial to."

Penelo blinked. "Really?"

"Yes." Rhys said, "'Tis a skill that has been passed down in my family through generations. As a Senator, you can imagine I have little use of it for combat purposes; however I find that a haste spell serves me greatly when reading through the most mundane piles of paperwork." His smile was shameless.

They laughed together, a beautiful harmony in Penelo's ears. To think a Senator would use a spell so frivolously was pleasantly unexpected. Although he was ten years her senior, and a leader in the most powerful empire in the history of Ivalice, Penelo was starting to find him… relatable.

Not to mention, he was still incredibly handsome. Even his laugh was charming. It had all the elegance of an Archadian nobleman while revealing a hint of youthful innocence he seemed to have never outgrown despite his undoubtedly strict gentry upbringing.

"Penelo," Rhys said, "Thank you for inviting me to accompany you tonight. I am sure we will have great fun."

"Of course," Penelo returned his warm smile.

The driver gently descended the aircab until they were hovering just above the ground. Penelo sat upright to look out the window and saw the main street of Trant.

The street was alive with festivities. Tents were set up for artist's wares, along with stands for hot food, and cold, sweet drinks. Penelo recognized many of the vendors from the Orbonne Market, but businesses from all districts could be found here – except, of course, those from Tsenoble. Mugs of ale clinked as adults gathered to toast the onset of summer, children ran and giggled as they played, and merchants sold fried festival foods. There were games involving people throwing various objects into baskets for prizes, a crowd of onlookers cheering on a mummer juggling glass bottles, as well as people joyfully dancing to upbeat melodies played by lutenists and drummers.

"Ah," Rhys looked out at the festivities fondly. "This is where the ardents from all districts gather to celebrate. Charming, no?" He grinned as they passed a man cheering so loudly his voice struck through the aircab. "It appears they're enjoying themselves immensely."

Penelo missed Vaan, Kytes, and her fellow dancers, their beautiful smiles and sun-kissed skin, as well as Migelo's wine and warm hugs. She would even welcome the sand in her hair and her clothes, and how hard her head would pound after a long night of celebration. She missed watching the beautiful vermillion sunrise, and the hearty breakfast that would follow soon after.

It took much willpower to blink back her tears, unwilling to allow homesickness to take over. She couldn't allow herself to appear sad while sitting across from Rhys, not when she was excited to spend an evening with him at the gala, and not when she had a very important job to do.

"We have nearly reached our destination," Rhys said, "If you look to your left, you will see the Barbanas theatre."

Penelo promptly scooted to the far left of her seat and glued her nose to the window.

During the day, the Barbanas Theatre was already a sight to behold; at night, the three hundred year old building looked almost brand new. The darkness of night hid all signs of age, while amber magicite lights brought the building aglow; a radiant gem of the northern archadian mountains.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Rhys smiled fondly at the building, "Nearly two-hundred years old, yet it remains as strong and magnificent as ever. My grandfather assures it is well-maintained."

Penelo knew from Larsa who Rhys's grandfather was. "Your grandfather is Lord Brutias Rhys, right?" she asked, watching as they flew past the theatre entrance and towards the opposite side of the building where the ballroom was located.

"That's correct." Rhys smiled fondly.

"Are you close with him?" Penelo dared.

Rhys's eyes went distant, looking down for a moment as he blinked. "He is all that remains of my immediate family," he paused, returning his gaze to Penelo, "So I suppose: yes."

After the day she first met Rhys, Penelo immediately dug into the books in the palace library in a hunt for any information she could find on House Rhys. Turns out there were many members of the Rhys family, so Penelo was surprised at the senator's answer. That would mean the majority of his House was extended family, then. As the head of a noble family, Rhys's grandfather would be expected to have many heirs; perhaps Rhys's mother died in childbirth? Penelo was in no place to ask.

"My adopted brother Vaan is all I have left," Penelo offered a sympathetic smile, "and I can't imagine my life without him. You two are lucky to have each other."

Rhys nodded, accompanied by a wistful smile. "I suppose we are." There was sincere vulnerability in his eyes that Penelo had never seen from him before; however, it disappeared as soon as their cab parked in front of the theatre.

"Will your grandfather be here?" Penelo hoped, eyes scanning the groups of gentry emerging from the line of cabs ahead of them. "I want to personally thank him for hosting this year's Council." _Meeting the head of a noble family would be a huge deal_, she thought.

Rhys shook his head. "Unfortunately, grandfather does not attend these events. He has… far too many responsibilities to oversee. However, I can send him your gratitude, if you wish?"

Penelo hid her disappointment with a gracious smile. "If it's not too much trouble, that would be great. Thank you."

...

* * *

...

Rhys stepped out of the cab to open the door for Penelo, offering her his hand. She carefully emerged from the cab, holding her shimmering skirts so not to step on them. A narrow red carpet was rolled out like an unravelled ribbon, stretching from the street to the doors of the ballroom.

Together Penelo and Rhys walked down the red carpet arm-in-arm. On either side of the carpet, ardents gathered to watch as the gentry entered the building. They were held behind borders placed by members of the Imperial Guard, whose hands outstretched to control the more enthusiastic members of the crowd. All around them, journalists from ardent-run papers shouted questions at them. Women cried for just a second of Senator Rhys's attention.

To Penelo's surprise, they were shouting for her, too. "Ambassador Penelo!" She heard one reporter call, "How do you know Senator Rhys?" Attentive women leaned forward, eager to overhear Penelo's answer.

Penelo was terrified and exhilarated all at once. She was no stranger to having so many eyes on her, however, this was no dance performance, and this was not Rabanastre. As she was about to stop and answer the question, Rhys stepped forward, smiled, and said, "All questions will be answered after the event, thank you!" With his arm linked to hers, he gently pulled her forward with him towards the doors. She supposed there was no time to stop and speak with each reporter, or else they would hold up the line, but that didn't stop Penelo from feeling bad about it.

The guards at the door were checking everyone for sandalwood chops. Just as Penelo was about to retrieve hers from her purse, Rhys gestured her to stop. He simply gave the guard a smile and a nod, which the guard returned, and they were allowed in.

The actual theatre of the Trant Theatre was but one half of the entire building; the other was the Grand Ballroom. The room was a half-circle of white walls with gilded accents and patterned tile floors. Great chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a bright, yet warm glow. Sophisticated and elegant classical Archadian ballroom music lured Penelo into the sea of gentry men and women adorned with silk and gold, with perfect hair and pearly white teeth. They sparkled as much as the champagne in their glasses: a world of perfection only for the elite.

Suddenly, Rhys turned to her. "I believe when you asked me to escort you here, a lesson on Dalmascan culture was promised," he said. "Pray tell me, what does a festival in Rabanastre usually entail?"

"Well," she began, "Our parties are definitely not this…extravagant. Not even royal weddings are. Most of it is on the streets- kinda like the ardents outside…" She paused, gesturing at the door. "Other than that, it's the same. We get together, there's dancing, there's drinking… except we have dance performances, either large troupes or solo artists. Soon enough you'll get an idea of that those are like." She winked at him, thinking about her and Larsa's plan to put on a show for all of Archadia's gentry to enjoy.

Rhys looked _really_ interested. "A surprise you have planned?"

She wasn't going to spoil it for him. "You'll see," Penelo smiled, taking a step to move the two of them forward.

"Would you like a drink?" Rhys asked, gesturing towards the open bar set up against the wall. "You must try Archadian wines while you are here."

As Rhys led her towards the bar, women looked and whispered as they passed by, some failing to hide their disdain at the sight of Penelo's arm linked with Rhys's. They were gossiping about her, most like. Soon enough there would be rumors spread that the two were a couple; Penelo wouldn't be surprised. However, she wouldn't allow their stares to dampen her mood, not when she was on her way to finding answers. She held her chin up.

As they stood in line to wait for their turn to order a drink, an older gentleman with shoulder-length gray hair and an equally gray beard accepted his drink from the bartender. As he made his way past the line, he stopped, frowning at Rhys. "Hello nephew," he greeted with a voice and eyes that were tired from more than just age. He drank brown amber liquor out of his glass before clearing his throat harshly.

_Nephew?_ Penelo shot a glance at Rhys, wondering if she had heard the other man correctly.

"Hello Uncle," Rhys responded with a tone that was straining to be polite. "How are you this evening?"

_His Uncle? _

Penelo looked back-and-forth between Rhys, who towered over her, and his uncle, short and stout, who couldn't have been much taller than herself. There was such a lack of similarity in their appearances that she could hardly believe they were related.

"Hmph," the man grunted, his beady eyes scanning the ballroom. "I fear I am not drunk enough to deal with this rumpus." The ice clinked in his glass as he proceeded to finish the remainder of his drink. "Be sure to entertain your aunts and cousins so that I must not bear the burden."

Rhys chuckled briefly, straining a pleasant smile. "Of course, Uncle. And your sense of humor is always alarming, isn't it?"

The older man dismissed his nephew's remark with another grunt. Not bothering to actually face her, he briefly glanced at Penelo, regarding her with indifferent eyes. "And who is this?" he drawled.

Rhys stepped to the side, gesturing outward to Penelo. "Allow me to introduce Ambassador Penelo of Dalmasca," he redirected his gesture to his uncle. "Penelo, this is Chairman Garamondt of the Imperial Senate."

_The Chairman?_ Penelo almost gasped. This stand-offish man, who happened to be Rhys's Uncle was the head of the entire Senate? She froze for a second before her manners returned to her, remembering something Larsa had taught her the night before.

Penelo grasped her skirts; ocean waves shimmered as she dipped into a curtsey. "It is an honor to meet you, Chairman."

"Yes, likewise," he said flatly, barely cracking a smile. He looked at Rhys. "Now, if you will excuse me; I must speak with the Lirschells."

The irritable Chairman walked past the pair to head towards the line of tables where the gentry dined. After a few steps, he stopped, turning around to face them again. "Danfordt," Garamondt called, "Remember we have a meeting with the full Senate tomorrow."

"Of course," Rhys said, "Thank you, Uncle."

"And speak up; you're far too quiet in our meetings."

At this, Rhys looked alarmed, his usual composure slightly cracked. "I will try."

Penelo couldn't help but wonder if there was bad blood between the two. She wished to know more. Should she ask? She didn't want to be nosey, but that was what she was here to do, wasn't it?

As they stepped forward in line, Penelo noticed that Rhys still seemed tense from the encounter, so she wanted to lighten the mood. Chuckling, she said, "Your Uncle doesn't like parties, does he?"

Rhys cracked a smile, shaking his head. "Nay, he wants little to do with them. He is only here to maintain appearances."

Penelo nodded. As Chairman, that made sense. "So he's a member of House Garamondt, right?"

"That's correct," Rhys said, "He is married to my Aunt, however in marriage amongst Archadian nobility, the bride joins the groom's House."

"I see," Penelo nodded, progressing further up the line. "So, House Garamondt and House Rhys… do your two houses go back a long time?"

"Yes, we do," Rhys answered, "My Uncle and I are both descendants of a long line of Senators going as far back as the first King's Council, when Archadia was a Kingdom. "

_Thank goodness Larsa let me borrow his copy of 'The Truth of the Matter_,' Penelo thought. "Barbanas was the first Councillor of the King, right?" Penelo recalled, "He's the one who this building is named after?"

All that remained of Rhys's tension seemed to melt into a grin. "You impress me, Penelo. You have done your research."

"Of course," Penelo smiled, "What kind of Ambassador would I be if I didn't?" _A fraud, which I am. But you don't have to know that, Danfordt._

When they arrived at the front of the line, Rhys ordered a glass of red wine for Penelo. Tart, its taste was rich of both grapes and cherries, and it was almost as strong as Rozarrian wines. Penelo made sure only to take a modest sip, knowing well she would need her mind as sharp as the Tournesol's blade for tonight's task.

"Excellent, right?" Rhys asked as they stood to the side of the bar. "All drinks were provided by our very own Senator Caine. Do you know of him?"

Penelo almost choked on her wine, coughing softly and clearing her throat. "Senator Caine? Yes, I've seen some of his products in town. They say no one knows where he comes from. If it's true he's not from here, then I'm impressed he was able to achieve so much on his own. Will he be here tonight?"

"Bacchus Caine? He would never miss an event like this!" Rhys exclaimed, chuckling. "Would you like me to introduce you?"

"Yes; that would be great."

"Excellent. I shall introduce you to Willmundt as well. The Ambassador of Dalmasca should be acquainted with all of the Senate's leaders."

Penelo gave a small smile, suppressing the extent of delight she felt. _I was right; going with Rhys was the perfect way to get to know everyone._

_..._

* * *

...

They approached an elderly man swaying to the music with an almost empty wine glass in hand. His eyes were closed as he smiled in bliss. For a moment, Penelo was reminded of Old Dalan sitting in his home in Lowtown, humming along to a classic Dalmascan love song that Kytes played on his reed flute.

"Senator Willmundt," Rhys greeted him, "May I have the pleasure to introduce you to Ambassador Penelo of Dalmasca?"

The older Senator smiled at her, delighted, as Penelo did a curtsy for him. Willmundt looked much older than the other senators, his spine hunched from decades of gravity's weight. However, he had a youthful energy and innocent smile that defied age. "Ambassador Penelo, 'tis an honor to finally meet your acquaintance," he said in a voice as soft and pleasant as his smile. "Lord Larsa has told me much about you. He has only ever had kind words regarding his best friend Penelo, and so I hoped I might one day see this marvellous woman who has so much of His Excellency's respect."

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Senator." Penelo said. "And it's truly an honor to have Lord Larsa as a friend."

"I am relieved to know our young Lord as friends his own age. I was beginning to worry he had only us old men to keep him company." Willmundt chuckled, and Penelo couldn't help but find him to be absolutely adorable.

"Speaking of His Excellency, I believe he is over at the balcony across the ballroom," Willmundt pointed, "Ah yes, there he is. I am sure he would like to see you."

"Thank you so much," Penelo gave him another curtsy, "It was nice to meet you, Senator."

Rhys led Penelo away from Willmundt, who continued on with his rhythmic swaying to the music.

According to Balthier, the Senators were their number one suspects, but Willmundt seemed to genuinely care about Larsa's wellbeing. _I don't think it's him,_ Penelo thought.

They approached the stairs to the balcony, where Penelo could see Larsa standing at the very top. Under the light of the chandelier above him, he glowed brilliantly in his silver and sky blue dresscoat. He appeared to be struggling to listen to what looked like a businessman boasting about his success. _Poor Larsa,_ Penelo thought. _He looks bored._

Just then, Larsa spotted her. He looked startled at first, but then he gave her a playful wink, prompting Penelo to chuckle.

"Do you wish to go to him?" Rhys asked.

At Larsa's wink, Penelo grinned in return. "No, it's okay. He looks a little busy right now; I'll see him later." She gave Larsa a wink of her own before leading Rhys away from the staircase.

_I'll see him when we wow the gentry with our dance._ _First, I have more questions to ask Rhys._

"So Danfordt," Penelo began, "You said that House Rhys has been in political power since Archadia was a kingdom, right? And your ancestor Barbanas served as an advisor to the first King?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"That's much longer than House Solidor's reign; Larsa is only the sixth Emperor of Archadia from House Solidor," Penelo noted, slowing into a saunter. "It's interesting. In Dalmasca, only one family has been in power since the days of the Galtean Alliance. And even House Dalmasca is made up of descendants of King Raithwall, including Lady Ashe. But Archadia seems to favour electing their leaders."

"There is a vast difference in our respective countries' approach to politics it seems," Rhys said, pausing to wave at a group seated at a nearby table. "In Dalmasca, there is little doubt as to who possesses the rights to power. Over centuries, Archadia has endured many civil wars over which family deserves to inherit the titles of King, Chairman, or Emperor. It would be much simpler to have but one family to possess that title, however, many would say corruption is a higher possibility under such a system. Coming from Dalmasca, I wonder what your thoughts are on this?"

"Well we're really lucky to have a family as trustworthy as House Dalmasca. While some of our Kings in the past made some questionable decisions, I trust Ashe with my life. Things have only improved since she took over, and I have high hopes for our future. Although, it would be interesting to see what other families would do. Like, what would a family who grew up in Lowtown do with their power? I can only wonder."

"Hmm," Rhys chuckled, "That would be quite a scandal here in Archades. Even noble houses are met with criticism if they haven't held power for long. Take House Solidor for example. It was House Garamondt who held the title before the first Solidor was elected Emperor. And before that, there was always a member of House Garamondt in the Senate during the days of the Republic. Within Archadia's eleven hundred year history, House Solidor's reign is relatively new."

Solidor Emperors must have each had to try really hard to prove their worth. Taking any risk, but especially at the scale that Larsa was, must have been completely out of the question for them.

Finally, Penelo could ask the question she truly wanted an answer for. "Do you think House Solidor's reign is strong enough to last centuries? Like House Dalmasca?" _What do you __**really**__ think about House Solidor, Danfordt?_

Rhys's steps slowed to a halt. He looked off into the distance for a moment, smiling as he contemplated his answer. "Admittedly there is doubt among the nobility here in Archades that a House of only one member can continue such legacy. I, however, think Lord Larsa shows much promise. We have never had an Emperor quite like him." He returned his eyes to her, dark indigo and unreadable as the depths of the sea. "I am a man of history, Penelo, as such the future is not my area of expertise. However, I can say this: unless a decision is made to bring change, and we are brave enough to face it, history will only repeat itself."

Penelo looked up at the Senator's handsome face and smiled. "So you're a man of history, then. But can you become a man of change?"

Rhys chuckled, soft and nervous. He smiled at her in a way that looked as though he were about to share a secret. "Hmm… I would say that is what I aspire to be. To my luck I have leaders as inspiring as Larsa... and you."

Penelo blushed, chuckling. _Good answer,_ she thought. Senator Rhys had only voiced support for Larsa so far. _I don't think it's him either._

Then, Penelo saw that Rhys's gaze was directed at someone ahead of them.

"Speaking of new power…" Rhys managed to whisper to Penelo before a familiar face approached them.

"Penelo," Rhys' face lit up in a grin that was clearly for show. "This is Bacchus Caine: one of the leaders of the Imperial Senate." He held his hand out in gesture.

Caine? As in _the_ Senator Caine that had been giving Larsa a hard time?

Penelo recognized him now: the Senator who leered at her in the hallway at Jules's apartment. Just the man she didn't want to meet again, but needed to.

_Who are you, Senator Caine?_

Penelo curtsied as she did for Willmundt and Garamondt. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Senator." Her heart began to race as she involuntarily avoided eye-contact. She hoped he wouldn't recognize her from that day at Jules's apartment, and she definitely didn't need more rumors spreading.

Caine smiled like a coeurl on the prowl. "The pleasure is mine, and I must say..." in a split second, his eyes scanned her entire body, "the papers do your beauty no justice; you look absolutely ravishing."

"Thank you," Penelo gave him a polite smile in return. _He doesn't recognize me,_ Penelo thought, _but he sure does have the same attraction to me. Maybe I can use that to get information from him?_

Caine noticed Penelo's barely-touched glass of wine. "The wine is not to your liking?" He asked suspiciously.

Penelo glanced at her glass. _Crap. Maybe I should have had more. It's his company's wine! And he thinks I hate it!_

She smiled at Caine guiltily, panicking. Penelo was never a fan of wine, especially Archadian wines. They were much too tart for her southern palette. She much preferred Dalmascan moonshine. However, something about Caine's piercing stare made her feel as though any lie she told would be caught and exposed.

"Honestly," Penelo shrugged, "Wine isn't exactly my favourite drink," she risked.

"Hm," Caine then grinned as his chuckle ascended into laughter so loud it turned a few heads their way. "Brutal Dalmascan honesty- I'll take it!"

Penelo found herself shrugging again, fighting through nervous laughter.

After he caught his breath, Caine took a step closer. "Ambassador," he said, "It had come to my knowledge that in Dalmasca you are a highly regarded dancer – is this true?"

He probably read that in the papers. "My troupe and I, yes,"

Caine seemed pleased with that answer. "Then perhaps a demonstration?" He smiled, offering his hand, "Dance with me." The man was kind of unsettling, and rude from what she's heard from Larsa, but Penelo had to admit, he certainly had courage and charisma when he spoke.

Should she dance with him? She didn't want to ditch Rhys; that would be rude, especially when he had only shown her kindness. Also, she was just starting to get some interesting information from him. However, she shouldn't miss this opportunity to get acquainted with the Senator who opposed Larsa's bill the most.

Sensing her hesitation, Caine spoke. "Oh I am sure he'll be alright without you for a moment; Rhys is a _big_ boy, isn't he?" Caine smiled at Rhys with a thin layer of threat.

"Of course," Rhys said, holding out his hand to gingerly take Penelo's barely-touched glass of wine. "Please enjoy yourself, Penelo; we shall talk later," he said, the pleasant smile on his lips calming Penelo's guilt. "As my Uncle requested, I shall be entertaining my family."

"Okay," Penelo nodded. After releasing her hand from the warmth of Rhys's arm, she took Caine's offered hand with caution.

As soon as Rhys was gone, Caine spoke. "He is on a first-name basis with you already?" he said, "I must admit, I am jealous." His smile bared no shame.

"Yes," Penelo chuckled, bashful at the thought of Rhys, "Well, I hope that by the end of all this, everyone can be on a first-name-basis."

"Hmmhmm, as do I." His grip was firm as he whisked her away towards the dance floor.

Caine must have sensed her anxiety. "Don't be frightened," he said in a hushed tone that was much gentler than his earlier voice, "The Waltz isn't too difficult of a dance. Are you familiar with the steps?"

It wasn't the dance she was afraid of, so much as the way he looked at her as though she were a freshly-grilled cockatrice leg. "Yes, actually, I am."

"Already you impress me," he purred.

A brief moment of silence fell in the ballroom while the musicians prepared to play a new song. Swift and powerful violins brought an alarmingly abrupt beginning, then leading into a beautiful melody, prompting guests to begin dancing.

Before this, Penelo had only ever waltzed with Larsa. So when Caine took her waist with a hold much more strong than the tentative hands of her friend, it was alarming. He led her into the dance with ease. While his steps were just as graceful and smooth, he gave a commanding energy that the young emperor didn't have; and with the quick beat of the song, it took all Penelo had to keep up with the Senator's swift steps.

He spun her once before pulling her close, and after a few rounds of three-steps, Penelo finally adjusted to the dance.

"You manage to keep up; I am impressed," Caine complimented, "and I must give credit to your instructor as well."

"That would be Lord Larsa," Penelo proudly claimed.

"Of course," Caine smiled knowingly, not sounding surprised at all. "You and he are friends, am I not right? If all the papers agree, it must be true."

_He reads all of the papers?_ Because Caine was a member of the gentry class, Penelo figured he would only read _The Tsenoble Report_.

"Yes," Penelo smiled, "We are."

"Ambassador," Caine's expression softened as he addressed her. "It has been but a week since you arrived in the city, yet already I have heard much about you. I hope you don't mind clarifying for me if there is truth to any of it?"

"Sure," she agreed.

The senator's smile was polite enough, yet the sense of victory in his eyes did little to stop Penelo's sense that she was walking into a king coeurl's den. "Rumor has it, that you once lived on the streets of Rabanastre without a gil to your name; is this true?"

_He's not afraid to ask anything, is he?_

"Yes," she confirmed, never allowing her gaze or smile to falter despite the uncomfortable topic. "All of that is true. After all, many of Dalmasca's children are orphans of plague, and of course: _war_." She figured the emphasis on "war" could really drive home the point that it was only pain her people received from the Empire. But how would an Imperial Senator react to that?

Caine's smile faded, his sharp grey eyes softening into something akin to sympathy. "I am sorry to hear that," his voice sounded sincere, or perhaps it was Penelo's visceral reaction to the stirring violin strings. "You're standing here today is a testament to your strength. And perhaps it was that very strength that drove a girl like you to become an Ambassador of Dalmasca? Was that the way of it?"

_Am I strong?_ Penelo wondered. Many people in her life have told her so: Vaan, her mother, Malikah and the troupe, Kytes, as well as Migelo. But she was only strong because of them. When others needed her: that was when she found the will to get up and move forward.

"To be honest, I have no idea; I kind of feel like a fraud," she said before she could stop herself. Why was she confiding in this man? A stranger: and a creepy one at that? And wasn't she supposed to be getting information out of him?

"Nonsense," Caine shook his head, "A girl from the streets must struggle to overcome the climb to the top. You have worked hard to get to your position, no doubt."

Where was he going with this? Why was he complimenting her on her struggles? A quiet "Thank you," was all she returned.

"The circumstances under which you grew up must have instilled in you a tremendous work ethic – am I not right?"

Penelo wondered just how much a man of his status would actually know about the struggles of poverty, especially that which was war-induced. By _his_ Empire. How would he know anything about the hardships of losing everyone and everything he loved to the horrors of war? But she wouldn't dare voice that to him.

"Yes," she nodded hesitantly, "You're right."

Caine smiled satisfactorily. "Then you and I should get on well, I think," he said, and before Penelo could ask what he meant by that, he spun her twice, leaving her feeling more lightheaded than before, her attempts to stay sharp-minded thwarted.

"Penelo," Caine said, "I believe in the value of hard work. Every title, privilege and position should be rightfully earned, don't you agree?"

_Why is he asking these questions?_ Penelo thought. "I guess… I would agree with you," she answered, even though truthfully she knew it was a lot more complicated than that.

Caine's eyes surveyed the area, at the display of Archadian nobility dancing and socializing around them, and Penelo followed with her own gaze. He looked at them suspiciously, a hint of fear, as though they could hear every word he said.

"You see these gentry?" He kept his voice low as he spoke. "Ghys, Lirschell, Garamondt, Rhys, the lot of them – they were born into a world of money, with the privilege of education- of power. They did not struggle to earn their right at the top; they know not of suffering."

Caine took her hesitation as an opportunity to continue. He returned his eyes to her, smirking. "But how would _I_ know about suffering? Is that what you're thinking?"

_Crap. How?_ "Yes…" Penelo admitted. _He said he liked my honesty; so here it is, Senator Caine._

Caine's smirk was unwavering. "Preconceived notions are unbecoming of a diplomat."

_Preconceived notions?_ Penelo wasn't a judgemental person! She always gave others the benefit of the doubt, and she always kept an open mind to anyone who was different from her. The nerve of this man to judge her just as harshly as he is accusing of her! "Speak for yourself," she countered, "You're wrong about Larsa. He's different than his family."

Caine seemed satisfied with her answer. "Am I?" He said, "So far I have found that the serpent doesn't slither far from its nest."

_At night, a serpent left without his head, _

_By dawn, his wish will be that he was dead. _

Penelo recited the rumor in her head over and over, unable to form words out loud.

Caine promptly filled in the silence. "So what has Lord Larsa told you of what I think of him?"

"He told me how you disrespect him at any chance you get," Penelo answered, "I know he's young, but he is still your Emperor."

Caine didn't look impressed. "He has yet to do anything to earn my respect."

Penelo didn't understand how someone could not respect Larsa. At only twelve years old, Larsa accepted his position as Emperor of Archadia. And in five years, he had already done more good for Ivalice than Lord Gramis or Vayne ever did. Penelo tried to stay calm. "Oh? And what about Orbonne?" She challenged, "He helped Archadians in need to build a new life for themselves."

The Senator looked as though he had heard that argument a hundred times. "And in doing so, he has made them reliant on a savior," he said, "What if his hands were tied, or worse, removed? Who would save them then?"

_Removed? _

Caine's lips curled into a smirk. "Your silence is telling."

_Oh we're not done here_, Penelo thought. Caine's smirk was a premature victory. "You know, you talk about how difficult it is for someone like me to get to where I am, but you don't consider the difference between our countries," Penelo said. "That is only true in Archades, not in Rabanastre, where there are no hierarchies like the Chop System to gatekeep us. Passing this bill would begin to remove those advantages and disadvantages you speak of, and people like me would no longer need a savior."

Caine's chuckle was deep, with a hint that he was very entertained by her. "And yet you say I should respect Lord Larsa simply because he was handed the title of Emperor. Pray tell me: if titles and status are so important to you, why then would you support a bill that removes them from all gentry?"

What? What did that have to do with balancing the inequality in Archades? _I… I'm not a hypocrite, if that's what he's saying. _"I… I don't see it that way," Penelo said, her polite smile long gone. "You're wrong about Larsa, and now I see you're also wrong about this bill, Senator."

The violins rose to a crescendo, and as suddenly as they reached the song's end, Caine lowered Penelo into a dip.

"And I see I was so very right about you, Ambassador."

What's that supposed to mean? Right about what? What were _his_ preconceived notions about _her_?

Caine lifted her back up. "You are an excellent dancer, indeed."

"That was a Rozarrian move," Penelo pointed out. "You've been there?"

Caine shrugged. "Where else would I have learned how to make the finest wine in Ivalice?" His smile lowered. "Not that you were impressed by it, unfortunately."

_He's a Senate Leader, he disagrees with Larsa's policies, he's against Larsa's bill, and he has a grudge against people who were born rich…_

Penelo's heart was pounding, and it wasn't just from the waltz. Was Caine the one Jules was referring to?

...

* * *

**Author's Note: ****Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!**

**This chapter was named after "The Pot" by TOOL.**


	11. The Pot, II

**11\. The Pot, II**

...

_Seven generations after King Archadias's death, his descendant, King Lucias, murdered his father and brothers to seize the throne for himself. In his reign, he expelled several members of the Council, fearing they favored his father and brothers over him. The Council then conspired to assassinate him, posing it as a suicide. The public never learned the truth of how the Kingdom fell._

_– DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"_

_..._

* * *

...

Larsa had forgotten how much of a chore these gentry-exclusive galas were.

What was it about them that left him feeling so exhausted? Perhaps it was the pretentiousness of the gentry who felt they deserved their own ballroom to celebrate away from the ardents. Perhaps it was the rambling of elite businessmen bragging about how severely they crushed their competitors this week. Or perhaps it was the pettiness of the women, who gossiped about each other so ferociously as though they were empires at war and not the close friends they claimed to be. Or the press, vultures hungry for gentry gossip to print on tomorrow morning's papers.

It was all of that, more so, and it left him feeling suffocated.

It wouldn't be so bad if he could venture outside and join the ardents in their festivities on the streets of Trant. Larsa would dance to their upbeat drums, eat fresh Landisian meat pies and play games... perhaps win Penelo a prize. However, he was stuck listening to the dull stories of a business owner who cared more about earning gil than the wellbeing of his employees.

"It was a sacrifice of necessity..." the nobleman drawled, as Larsa smiled politely, stifling a yawn. After listening to him for five minutes longer than he would have liked, Larsa managed to politely excuse himself to get a glass of water. _At last, I can breathe._

This was not how it should be. Everyone should be celebrating _together_.

On the ground floor of the ballroom, after a waiter took Larsa's newly emptied glass, Larsa was free to wander for a minute at most until the next lord would try to occupy his attention. His eyes scanned the dance floor until he found familiar blonde braids, and he smiled. _Oh good, _Larsa thought. _Penelo is dancing; she should always be dancing…_

Larsa's heart froze when he saw that it was Senator Caine who she was dancing with.

He knew Caine had an… interest in Penelo. But how could he blame him? Just _look_ at her…

Why did he have such fear in his heart at the sight of this? Most likely because Caine looked at her with a hunger he should _not_ have for a woman half his age. But what also worried him was what Caine could _say_ to Penelo; what he could say about the _bill_. Larsa had heard whispers that Caine was raised in the lowers, his family coming into money only recently. If there was truth to that, Caine could relate to Penelo in ways that Larsa himself could not. And if the senator _used_ that...

Before he could delve further into his fear, a smooth voice pulled him to the surface. "Good evening, my lord. Care for a drink?" It was Senator Rhys, holding out a glass of wine while smiling graciously.

Larsa held his hand out to gesture a polite rejection while shaking his head. "I care not for alcohol, but thank you, Senator."

Rhys nodded in acceptance. "You are an emperor with a most upstanding reputation," he said, deciding then to drink the wine himself, taking a modest sip.

"As I should be."

Larsa returned his gaze to Penelo waltzing with Caine, and a moment of silence passed before Rhys spoke again. "It appears Ambassador Penelo is enjoying her dance with Senator Caine," he said, chuckling softly, "I was going to ask her myself, but he managed to swipe her before I had the chance."

"He certainly is bold," Larsa said, hoping Rhys couldn't hear his jealousy.

"Indeed," Rhys smiled. "Does Penelo prefer a man who takes the initiative, I wonder?" He glanced at Larsa, pressing for an answer.

Larsa shook his head. "I know not."

"I apologize," Rhys said, "I assumed she had shared her thoughts with you on this subject. She said you are her best friend."

It was an honor that Penelo considered him as such, truly. And yet, there was a part of Larsa that doubted the truth of it. "She is the kind of person who dedicates herself fully to her work and caring for others. It would be of no surprise to me if she never granted herself the time to think on matters of the heart."

"A trait she shares with you, no doubt. I see why you are friends," Rhys said, and Larsa found that the senator's words and accompanying warm smile were reassuring.

However, Larsa failed to stop his mood from going sour at the sight of Caine spinning a seemingly delighted Penelo.

"You do not approve?" Rhys questioned.

He looked to the Senator curiously, wondering what he was talking about, when Rhys gestured to the dancing pair with a quick glance of his eyes.

Larsa shook his head at the ridiculous notion. "My approval is neither relevant nor necessary," he said, "Penelo is an independent woman. Fear for her I might, but I must also trust her judgement. She is perfectly capable of handling herself."

"Indeed," Rhys said, "She is an impressive young woman. Intelligent, wise, and charming: favorable traits for a diplomat, wouldn't you agree?"

Larsa smiled as he thought of when he first met Penelo, and how it was her open heart that allowed for their friendship to develop in the first place. "I do – which is why I encouraged her to take the position." He watched as Caine smiled at something Penelo said. "She seems to be faring well so far. I could never hold a conversation with Caine without it going sour in seconds."

Rhys perked the corner of his lips into a smirk. "Neither could I; Why else would I be so quiet at our meetings?" he said, taking a sip of wine. "And so I opt to avoid engaging with him altogether."

Larsa let out a chuckle. "A luxury," he said.

Rhys chuckled as well before taking another sip of wine. "A luxury neither of us has, and yet I refuse to let that stop me from _trying_," Rhys said, grinning, and Larsa laughed at the image of Rhys frantically avoiding Caine in the Senate Chambers.

Rhys joined him in laughter. "I jest, I jest, my lord – well, not entirely," he said, and after another sip of wine, he returned his gaze to Penelo and Caine. "As members of the Senate, 'tis our duty to work together, is it not? And perhaps… in that, there is something we can learn from Ambassador Penelo."

There was only truth in the Senator's words. If Penelo could see something in Caine that Larsa could not, he would have to make a better effort to see as she did.

An _effort_, at the least.

"Senator Rhys," he looked up at the man who towered next to him. "I want to thank you for your words, and for the kindness you have shown Penelo. She told me of what you did for her."

Rhys shook his head. "No need, my lord; it was my pleasure."

"The guard who denied her entry into the Palace – Remas – he has been sent back to the Military Akademy for retraining. Such behaviour will not be tolerated here."

Rhys's expression was unreadable as he watched the crowd of gentry on the dance floor. "'Tis most unfortunate that members of the Imperial Guard can be so narrow-minded."

Larsa knew there was a reason he favoured speaking to Rhys over the other senators. He smiled, relieved to hear the senator's words. "Exactly as I see it."

Larsa focused on the dancing pair again, and saw Caine leaning in to whisper something into Penelo's ear; Penelo could handle herself, sure enough, but he couldn't bear to see another second of this.

"Forgive me," Larsa said, looking to Rhys, "I must end our conversation prematurely; I have a dance to interrupt."

Larsa began his stride to the dance floor, nearly missing Rhys's next words: "You are ever full of surprises, my lord!"

The classic Archadian song "Waltz of Summer's Eve" faded into a close as Larsa approached Caine and Penelo on the dance floor.

Larsa caught their attention by extending out his left hand to Penelo. "May I have the pleasure of this next dance?"

Penelo's smile spread wide into a grin. She glanced at Caine, who was taken aback.

Caine's surprised expression softened into a polite smile. "Of course, my lord; _she's all yours_." He stepped aside, turned to Penelo and said, "thank you for the dance, Ambassador; until next time. Enjoy your evening," and he left the dance floor.

Penelo turned to Larsa, and her eyes lit up. "Is it time?"

Larsa nodded firmly, excitement thumping in his chest. "Are you ready?"

Penelo grinned, gracefully placing her hand in Larsa's. "I hope you remember all the steps I choreographed."

"How could I forget?" He said, to which Penelo blushed, or perhaps she was flushed from the previous dance.

After getting water for Penelo, Larsa searched the room until he caught eyes with Basch, signalling him with a nod, and the Judge Magister began notifying everyone to clear the dance floor. Noblemen and women alike shuffled away from the center, whispering words of confusion and anticipation until they formed a circle around the area.

Basch dismissed the band to take their leave. Emerging from the back entryway, Larsa spotted the musicians he had hired from Rabanastre, the same band who had played for Lady Ashe. He waved them in, prompting small gasps from the gentry as the band members made their way across the ballroom.

"Who are they? I fail to recognize them," a woman somewhere to Larsa's left said. "What is the meaning of this? What does Lord Larsa have planned?" said another. The musicians set up near the wall, their sitars and goblet drums attracting curious eyes.

Larsa hoped his people appreciated surprise performances.

Within the week since Penelo tried on the dress, Larsa planned this dance with her. He had wanted to properly introduce her to his people – especially the gentry, those who would most likely be opposed to his bill – but he needed to find an impactful way to do it. So when the shimmering skirts billowed beautifully as Penelo first tried on the gown, he had a vision: if the gentry saw their Emperor dance with a Dalmascan, one who was reported by all the papers to be his friend, then perhaps they could begin to see such a union as normal.

After all, as Penelo herself had said to him on her first day in Archades: he could not change his people, but he could influence them. Sending a message subliminally through a single dance would be subtle enough, surely.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Larsa announced, "Thank you all for joining me today for the Midsummer Gala. Tonight I have a special treat for you: a story of two strangers from different lands who meet under dire circumstances. They become fast friends, and each swears never to harm the other. I present to you a dance: _A Beauty in Dissonance."_

The audience politely clapped in encouragement as the magicite chandeliers dimmed and transformed color, blanketing the ballroom in deep amber. The room fell silent as Larsa and Penelo took their positions. They each had one foot in front of the other, looking over their shoulders towards the other person. Each had their right hand up, palms touching gently.

Larsa looked back at the band, and gave them a nod and a smile: their cue to begin.

Sitar strings danced, beautiful and sporadic, easing the audience into the song. The music started slow, warm and alluring. Penelo and Larsa took steady strides in a clockwise circle, neither their palms nor their gazes losing touch.

After completing the circle, they pivoted, releasing their right hands only to connect their left, repeating the circle counter-clockwise. The sitar strings paused, and Larsa and Penelo each crossed the center of the circle to switch sides, their hands grazing the other's arm gently as they passed each other. They crossed again, and with one hand each, they took the other's waist as they swiftly glided in circles together: spinning glossair rings on an airship about to take flight. Their spin slowed to a gentle stop and their hands fell into waltz positions in one seamless motion.

Soft drums and powerful strings joined the sitar to begin the chorus, and Larsa and Penelo took flight. The dance was a blend of their cultures: an Archadian waltz set to Dalmascan music. Together they waltzed in circles, a spin or two peppered between smooth three-steps, and it truly felt like they were in the skies of Bhujerba, where they first met.

Although Larsa was eager to see the audience's reaction, he found he could not look away from Penelo. Always a beauty, she especially glowed tonight in her new ball gown: a _dangerous_ beauty, more like, just as the nethicite he had given her all those years ago.

Penelo's eyes, normally a soft honey-brown, were on fire tonight, glowing fiercely under the amber lights. Larsa was not shy to perform in front of an audience, yet his heart pounded in her burning gaze. He was never one to hesitate, always taking the dive to execute his plans whether it was escaping his escort to explore freely, or the extreme of helping the fallen princess of an enemy nation reclaim her throne. It was a different story, however, when it concerned his best friend.

It was the realization that the song she had chosen for them felt... romantic in nature that set Larsa's heart aflame. The strings sang of longing, and the tone was sensual, not unlike the songs Penelo's troupe would sway their hips to. And the choreography, which took influence not only from the Archadian waltz, but Dalmascan wedding dances as well, had their bodies working together as a single unit. Why would Penelo make these choices if not for... no. Larsa wouldn't entertain the notion that Penelo could possibly return his feelings. This dance was to send a message to the _public_, not to him.

He would suppress his feelings, as he had always done since the day they met. Bury them deep, as any noble Archadian man would do with any secrets he held.

And yet...

Now that she was here with him, every day, Larsa found it increasingly more difficult to deny the truth. The woman before him, dancing in his arms… when he looked into her eyes, he knew that love was the key to a world of peace, where people could put their differences aside and work together towards the greater good. He wanted nothing more than to look into those eyes every day…

And for that, he felt immense guilt.

How could he dare want more than friendship from her? It was already too much to ask of her to leave her life in Rabanastre for a month, but imagine… dare he think it for a second, were he to ask for her hand in marriage… Larsa knew there was a heavy price that would accompany a life with the emperor. He must dedicate himself to serving his people, to keep the empire afloat and intact in the chaos of life, and she would have to leave behind the comfort and freedom of simplicity to join him. He wouldn't dare ask that of anyone… and he especially wouldn't dare ask that of her.

What was he to do, now, with his racing heart?

He supposed he had no choice but to ignore his selfish longing.

However, Larsa allowed himself the small indulgence of a vision: of a ballroom filled with people – citizens and tourists alike, of all nationalities, races, and economic standing – dancing together, celebrating the day his bill was passed and all barriers keeping them apart were destroyed… the day they could begin to grow together as one. Everyone would part the dance floor to watch the Emperor and Empress dance the night away...

The bridge of the song emerged in a rapid pace, sitar strings and drums on fire. This was the segment where Larsa would release Penelo to dance on her own, a solo display of her Dalmascan culture. The entire audience of gentry marvelled at the swaying hips and wildsnake arms characteristic of her troupe's work. Larsa's heart overflowed with pride as he watched his friend charm his people.

Their dance ended the way it began, with Larsa and Penelo circling each other as a single unit, a rapid spinning wheel. In the feeling of flight this gave him, Larsa's heart soared: for the audience's applause, and the opportunity to share this moment with his best friend.

...

* * *

...

Piercing gold light poured from the glass chandeliers, almost blinding Penelo when Larsa lowered her into a dip. Larsa had insisted on adding a touch of Rozarria to end their Dalmascan-Archadian concoction of a dance, and Penelo gladly included it. The audience responded with a roaring applause – well, as close to roaring as the overly polite gentry could allow themselves – their claps light but numerous, the smiles of approval encouraging.

After Larsa lifted her, they each bowed graciously to their audience, exchanging victorious grins before pulling each other into a friendly embrace for all the gentry to see.

And it was that which got the audience _really_ fired up.

Journalists, with their pens and notepads at the ready, emerged from all sides of the crowd, approaching Larsa and Penelo at the center of the ballroom. Eager for the story behind the performance they just witnessed, they bombarded the pair with questions.

A pair of familiar spectacles glinted in the chandelier light. It was Joras, and Penelo froze at the sight of him, knowing he had the information about the trade deal just waiting to be released. "Lord Larsa," he asked, "For _The Tsenoble Report_: Was this dance based on your friendship with Ambassador Penelo?"

The corner of Larsa's lips quirked that mischievous way it did whenever he had a plan cooking in that mind of his. "That is correct, Joras. _Beauty in Dissonance_ is about the day Ambassador Penelo and I met five years ago during Archadia's occupation of Dalmasca," Larsa took this moment to look at Penelo, his eyelids lowered and smile softened. "Our countries have progressed much since then, and I look forward to see how far we can go in the future."

_I do too,_ Penelo thought, warmth engulfing her cheeks for what felt like the millionth time that night.

One woman who wrote a fashion column for _The Tsenoble Report_ asked, "Ambassador, who are you wearing tonight?"

Penelo glanced down at the shimmering turquoise gown and remembered the woman who sponsored her outfit. "This dress was designed by Augustia Fatale," she announced with as much confidence and clarity as she thought the seamstress would be expecting of her. _This might hit the papers, _Penelo thought. _Hopefully this will increase sales for Augustia and my debt will be settled._

This got everyone even more excited, as more journalists approached Penelo, asking questions about the gown and how she got involved with Augustia. Seamstresses approached her as well, asking if she would wear _their_ designs for future events. Penelo didn't offer a true answer, neither wishing to betray her sponsor nor reject future opportunities. Besides, she was unsure of what her future held for her in Archades.

One by one, the questions continued to pile. What did she think of Archadian fashion? Of their food and tea? How did she know Senator Rhys? Why was she visiting Archades, and why wasn't her queen with her? How exactly did she meet Lord Larsa? As the crowd grew thicker, and the questions more weighted, Penelo felt suffocated.

"Everyone, I thank you all for your curiosity," Larsa's tone was firm yet polite as he calmed the clamor around them. "I would ask that you please excuse Ambassador Penelo for the time being, as I'm sure she is parched after our performance. Any further questions you have, it would be my pleasure to answer." Larsa took the brief moment of silence as an opportunity to lean into Penelo's ear to whisper: "I'm sorry for all this; now you are free to make your escape." She gladly accepted the offer, smiling and nodding in thanks before she snaked her way out of the crowd.

_No wonder Larsa was always escaping his escort as a kid._

Larsa was right; Penelo was indeed parched after what were possibly two of the most important dances of her life, and even more so after the most hectic interview. After retreating to the bar and immediately downing a glass of cold water, a glimmer of gold flashed in the corner of her eye. The seamstress Augustia stood not two paces away from the bar, a beauty in gold and violet. A satisfied smile curved her red lips as she nursed a glass of Archadian red.

"Excellent display of my dress," she greeted, "Word of it will be on all the papers come tomorrow, no doubt."

_Was she standing there watching the entire time?_ Penelo swallowed. "That's what I'm supposed to do, right?"

"Yes," Augustia grinned, "and you are doing marvellously. I have another garment I believe will suit you. Stop by the store tomorrow morning and I will have you fitted."

"Does this mean we have a deal?"

"It does if you appear tomorrow to sign the contract I have drafted," Augustia glanced down at her wine as she casually swirled it around in the glass. "No pressure at all, I assure you."

Augustia was using Penelo as a mere opportunity to earn gil and build her reputation, that much was certain. Penelo never liked being used, not even in the days when Vaan took food "discounts" from _her_ job at Migelo's. However, there was a small, selfish part of her that enjoyed the confidence boost the dress had given her.

"Worry not; you have all night to decide," Augustia's smile was warm and sympathetic. "If you will excuse me, I believe the press awaits my word." With a nod she gestured to a group of journalists leaving Larsa and approaching her.

_This is my cue to leave, _Penelo thought before practically dashing out of there.

...

* * *

...

After swiping a glass of water from the bar, Penelo swiftly made her way across the ballroom to hide under the balcony. She sighed, resting her back against one of the white marble pillars. The water was cold on her tongue as she gulped it down.

"That was quite a performance," a deep voice hummed from her left, and a familiar dashing smirk emerged from the shadows.

Penelo gasped, nearly choking on her water. "Balthier!"

Balthier was handsome in his gold brocade dresscoat and doublet, charmingly mismatched with his usual pirate jewelry. "I have no idea who this 'Balthier' is, love. And please do keep your voice down," Balthier warned, his voice low, "I'm not supposed to be here, remember?"

"Sorry; you scared me."

Balthier leaned towards Penelo's ear, speaking almost at a whisper. "I saw you dancing with Senator Caine just before Larsa; how did that go?"

"I think it's him," Penelo said, "He doesn't believe the noble houses deserve their wealth and power, and he has no respect for Larsa at all. He seems to hate the gentry, despite being one himself. So I think you're right: he's definitely from the lowers. Also, he said something cryptic about serpents that reminded me of one of the rumors: he said _the serpent doesn't slither far from its nest._ He really believes Larsa is just like Vayne and Gramis, but he's wrong."

"And I understand why," Balthier said, to which Penelo furrowed her brows. "Hear me out: Vayne was no docile lamb, and with this bill, Larsa has proven that he is just as strong-willed as his brother."

"But this is different," Penelo protested, "Vayne was planning to use the power of nethicite to force nations together in hopes to make himself the new Dynast King, to rule us all in place of our leaders and the Occuria. Larsa wants everyone to agree to help each other while retaining our sovereignty. This is the right thing to do."

"Yet despite knowing the senate is against it, he presses forward with his bill anyway, and is now using his power to persuade the public to push a law the noble houses do not wish to follow. All because he believes it is _the right thing to do_, just as Vayne believed in his own convictions." Balthier raised a brow, and Penelo huffed.

"You know this is the game Larsa has to play; he doesn't _want_ to do it this way."

"I understand," Balthier sympathized, "And I believe in what Larsa is doing. However, I am simply offering the gentry perspective. To some of them, Larsa is terrifying. He represents change – the strongest adversary of what Archadian noble houses represent: tradition. As well, he has allies in previous enemy nations, and the favour of the poor; those are large numbers they're up against."

Penelo crossed her arms, looking into the empty glass she still held. "I guess I can see that..."

"Don't look so downcast," Balthier gave her a warm smile as he lifted her chin, "I have a suspect."

"Who?"

"Our best bet is the Chairman. House Garamondt has thirsted for Solidor blood since they were dethroned in the early days of the Empire. Not only that, but they wish to regain the power over the military they once held. Not to mention..." With a smirk, Balthier gestured to the Chairman across the ballroom, frowning and red-faced from alcohol. "Willard over there doesn't look too pleased."

"You think they could be working together?"

"Perhaps," Balthier contemplated. "We'll have to gather more information. Now, before I make another round through the ballroom, I have another question for you," Balthier's smirk was gone, and his eyes were focused. "I heard you attended the gala with Senator Rhys: is there truth to that?"

"Yeah, Penelo nodded, grinning, "I thought it would be a good idea to get to know everyone – and it was! Rhys introduced me to all leaders of the Senate, including the Chairman. Did you know they're related?"

"This Rhys," Balthier pressed, "He wouldn't happen to be named Danfordt, would he?"

"Yeah. Why? Do you know him?"

Balthier looked as though his heart stopped. He eyes went distant, as though he were recalling a memory. "I knew him, once. Where is he?"

Penelo pointed to Rhys, who was standing by the tables where his family dined. "He's over there with his family, I think. I should probably go check on him..."

Balthier's eyes went wide, as though he had seen a ghost.

"Balthier, what do you know about him?" Penelo asked. "This entire evening, I've been trying to rule out any suspects. Rhys has been very kind to me; he even helped me get back into the palace when the guard didn't believe I work there. I don't think he's the one, but I just want to be sure."

Balthier's eyes were locked to the young senator as he spoke. "Do you want to know Rhys's deepest, darkest secret?" He offered.

Penelo held her breath.

"He and I were once lovers, just before I left Archades."

_What?_ Penelo's heart skipped a beat.

"I wanted freedom and he... wasn't brave enough to follow."

A gasp escaped Penelo's lips. "I... I had no idea."

"Fear not," Balthier returned his eyes to her, his smirk returned. "He is every bit as interested in women as he is in men, if that's your concern."

Penelo felt her face flush, prompting Balthier to chuckle.

"I cannot blame you," he returned his gaze to the senator, "He's infuriatingly gorgeous, isn't he? Tall, dark and handsome. It's _unfair_."

Penelo laughed, nervous and amused all at once.

"Tread carefully," Balthier warned, "He places family above all, even to his own detriment."

Penelo's laugh died, recalling the story Rhys had told her in the aircab. "He told me he's close with his grandfather, Brutias: his last remaining immediate family. What do you know about him?"

Balthier opened his mouth, but his answer never came. Instead, his eyes went wide in panic. "We must talk later," he urged, "_Rhys is on his way."_

In a flash, Balthier dipped his head low and made his way around to the other side of the pillar.

"Penelo?" Rhys smiled warmly as he greeted her. "Who was that you were speaking to just now?" He leaned to the side, eyes searching for Balthier over Penelo's shoulder. "He looked awfully familiar..."

"Oh, I-I don't know him," Penelo stammered in a panic, "He just started talking to me."

Rhys frowned. "If he was bothering you, I can have him escorted out," he said, and before Penelo could stop him, he walked around her, following Balthier into the crowd.

Penelo followed him. "Wait," she called, but it was too late. Rhys grabbed Balthier by the shoulder and firmly turned him around.

"I knew it was you," Rhys confronted Balthier with cold eyes, "I recognize that smirk anywhere."

"Hmm yes," Balthier purred, "Just as I recognized you playing puppet for your uncles and aunties as you always did."

A small twitch in Rhys's eyes betrayed his steeled expression. "I heard a sky pirate was spotted wandering around the lowers, but I didn't think it would be you, Ffamran."

"It's _Balthier_ now."

"Of course," Rhys closed his eyes for a moment and smiled mockingly. "World renowned sky pirate, Balthier. In that case, a simple escort out of the building won't suffice. I would say an arrest is long overdue."

A guard was suddenly behind Balthier, towering over him. "Is _this_ the man, Senator?" His voice was muffled by his helmet, yet Penelo could recognize the hate in his sneer. _Is that... Remas? But I thought Larsa sent him away for retraining. Something's not right._

"Wait!" Penelo tried, "Please reconsider-"

"I fear my hands are tied," Rhys held his palms open, offering a sympathetic smile. "As a member of the Imperial Senate, I must abide by the law."

"But Larsa pardoned his crimes against Archadia-"

"His Excellency pardoned his _past_ crimes," Rhys countered. "However, _Balthier_ here is no longer a member of the gentry class. He is attending this event illegally."

"But-"

"Wait-"Rhys held a finger up as he made a realization, turning to Penelo with an amused smile. "Is _he_ the pirate you mentioned in your story? The one who led you to Bhujerba?"

Penelo nodded solemnly.

"Fascinating," Rhys said, before redirecting his gaze to the guard. "Remas: arrest the pirate."

Penelo expected a sky pirate like Balthier to do everything in his power to maintain his freedom, and yet she found he did not struggle when Remas bound his wrists in metal, nor when he was pushed forward towards the back exit of the ballroom. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at Penelo, pleading at her with his widened eyes alone.

_What am I supposed to do now? _Penelo panicked. _I shouldn't have let Balthier help me with this. Vaan's going to kill me. Ashe is going to kill me!_

Rhys turned around to walk away from the scene, which had attracted the curious eyes and gasps of onlookers desperate for gossip. Penelo followed him until they returned to the balcony to hide in the shadows underneath it.

Rhys stopped in his tracks, his indigo eyes shooting right through Penelo over his shoulders. "You need not lie to me, Penelo."

Penelo's heart skipped a beat. _That's right, I lied to him. Now I've ruined everything._

"I-I'm so sorry..." Penelo lowered her gaze to the floor, unable to look Rhys in the eyes.

"You are forgiven," with elegant fingers, Rhys gently lifted Penelo's chin until their eyes met again. "I understand why you would not wish to taint your image with an association with… pirates. After all..." Rhys looked at Balthier's disappearing form as Remas pushed him through the back doors, nostalgia swimming in indigo pools. "I, too, had to distance myself from him, long ago."

"Balthier told me about the two of you," Penelo confessed.

"Did he?" Rhys's steel mask melted, his lips curved in a small smile. "He was never shy, that one." He returned his gaze to Penelo, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "I must ask that you keep this between us: just our little secret."

Balthier had told Penelo years ago that one of the many reasons he left Archades was because same-sex relations were not accepted in their culture: especially amongst the gentry. "Of course," she agreed, nodding. "I won't tell anyone."

When Rhys rose to his full height, his eyes and smile were grateful. "Thank you, Penelo," he paused. "'Tis difficult: the life of a public official, is it not?"

Penelo nodded. "It is, so far."

"We must take care with our words, as well as our actions - even our relationships must be catered to the public eye, but I digress," He held out his hand to her. "Perhaps we can forget it all over a dance? I cannot promise to be as skilled as Lord Larsa, but I shall try my best to keep pace with you."

Penelo offered him a smile as she took his hand. "Sounds great."

She was beginning to understand Danfordt Rhys. He must have felt like a caged bird, unable to fly where his heart willed.

Penelo wondered how much Larsa felt that way about his own life. How many other Archadians lived their life for public opinion?

However many there were, she wished to liberate them all.

But first, she needed to figure out how to free Balthier from whatever cell he was being taken to, and she would have to remain in good standing with Rhys to do so.

...

* * *

...

After a dance and dinner with Senator Rhys, Basch, – or rather, Judge Magister Gabranth – announced that the Emperor's speech was soon to commence, and that he wished for everyone to gather outside of the Trant Theatre.

"Ah, the speech," Rhys said, "It is tradition that the Emperor gives a speech at the Midsummer Festival. I am curious as to what Lord Larsa has to say this year; he is quite the elegant speaker."

Holding on to the crook of Rhys's arm, Penelo followed the river of gentry shuffling out of the ballroom, their whispers and gossip surrounding her in a state of anticipation. "I wonder if this is the announcement I've heard rumors about," said one gentryman. "I absolutely love Lord Larsa's speeches," an excited young woman proclaimed to her friend.

_I hope you'll like this one_, Penelo thought as she and Rhys made their way down the steps of the ballroom and into the cool air of summer's eve. _I hope at least someone besides me will like it, for Larsa's sake._

Everyone gathered at the bottom of the steps, joining the crowd of ardents already waiting on the main street. This elicited a few hushed complaints Penelo overheard from the gentry who had no shame in voicing their harsh opinions of sharing space with ardents. This got Penelo's blood boiling, and she held onto Rhys's arm as though it were an anchor keeping her from going off on those close-minded jerks.

Thankfully, Basch and the other judges' booming voices grabbed the attention of the crowd, bringing them to a silence. Penelo's heart raced. Would these people accept a future of equality?

From her position on the side of the front row of the audience, Penelo could see Larsa standing tall and proud at the top of the steps, seeming far more calm than she was. _Good_, she thought, and perhaps she felt nervous enough for the both of them. Larsa stepped onto a podium hooked to an array of microphones that had been brought out earlier during the festivities. He glanced at Penelo, sending her a small smile that calmed her, before returning his gaze to the center of the crowd.

"Citizens of Archades," he began, his tenor voice smooth and pleasant as he greeted his people. "I wish to thank you for joining me tonight in celebrating the arrival of summer."

"I have gathered you all here tonight to announce a plan – one that will maintain the peace we have created with Rozarria and Dalmasca. And also, with as much importance: to create a new peace amongst ourselves." He redirected his gaze to the one half of the audience. "To create positive change in the world we must first look within and see what it is about ourselves that we must change. In my years serving as your emperor, I have spent much of my time reflecting on myself, my family, and all citizens of Archadia." His smile faltered, then, as he turned to look at the other half of the audience. "And in my search, I have found much pain, suffering, doubt, and deceit." Penelo could see disappointment in his eyes, then, and wondered if it was directed more towards himself than the gentry who held his gaze.

Larsa then returned his gaze to the center. "As citizens of Archades, since birth we have been taught to project an image of perfection: a false image that we cannot possibly maintain. We have been taught to withhold our darkest truths – to deny any imperfections that would hinder us in our climb to the top. We were raised to be fierce and competitive in our approach to success. Be not mistaken – to be competitive, to endeavor for something greater than what we have – these are positive traits that I am grateful for being encouraged to strive for, truly.

"However, in our pursuit of perfection, we have lost our way, becoming a people obsessed with power and status. We are encouraged to see ourselves as superior to others – more deserving than our own family, friends, and neighbors. We would do anything to gain the power we believe we rightfully deserve. We sacrifice our integrity, disregard kindness and compassion, pushing others down as we ascend. While we have been encouraged to value knowledge, we have also learned to value it only in the endeavor of using it to manipulate it for our own personal gain. I do not wish for us to continue living in this manner, for not only would that put others down, but ourselves also. We are only as powerful as our least fortunate; our minds only as knowledgeable as our hearts are open."

He returned his eyes to Penelo, his lips curled with a hint of mischievousness only she could see. "And so I have a plan – one that would change Archades forever."

_This is it,_ Penelo thought. There would be no going back after this.

She watched her friend face forward again, regarding the entire audience with a glint of optimism in his eyes. "I want you to imagine: a future where you no longer must worry about your reputation – where status is no more. A future with no titles such as ardent or gentry, to taunt and limit us. No longer must you trade valuable information for power and acceptance, for necessity and luxury alike, nor must you trade you morality in doing so.

"Imagine an Archades where you are free – to enter as you like, to think and speak as you would, without fear of losing all you have earned and all that you have built – where you are free to simply _be_. No longer will you trade precious information for power and acceptance, for riches and luxury," Larsa left a pause for suspense, or perhaps to prepare himself.

"I wish to end the corrupt institution that has held us captive for centuries. I wish to end the Chop System."

Penelo stood in a sea of gasps and murmurs as members of the audience looked to each other for some explanation.

Larsa held his hand out to his people in offering, graceful and vulnerable. "Join me, and liberate Archadia from its restraints. No longer would you live in fear of losing everything. Live together with your neighbors across borders, skies and oceans. Join Dalmasca, Rozarria and Bhujerba, learn from them as I have, and from the best of our cultures, we can create a better world. Let us move forward, past the years of war, past the hatred that brought with it… and live as part of one Ivalice." He curled his fingers inward as he retrieved his hand, placing it on the podium.

"In co-operation lies our hope; I have always believed that, and I always will. Alone, I cannot make this dream a reality; it is only with your support that together we can change our lives for the better. In the following weeks, let your voices be heard, and your opinions known; do not hesitate. I, along with members of the Senate, will be awaiting with ready ears and open hearts. I thank you all for taking the time to listen to me tonight. Please enjoy the remainder of the festival."

A wave of roaring applause began toward the left, where a majority of the ardents stood, and one by one, more members of the audience joined until finally the entire audience was cheering. Larsa grinned, bowing gracefully before taking his leave.

The ardents were enthusiastic, as expected, but what did the gentry think? Penelo glanced over her shoulder, at the senate leaders behind her. Both Caine and Chairman Garamondt were wide-eyed. _They really are terrified of Larsa, just as Balthier said._

Once the crowd began to disperse, Rhys leaned in towards Penelo's ear. "Alarming, is it not?" he said, "A bold move on Larsa's part, would you say?"

"Larsa is brave – always has been," Penelo replied, "He and I wouldn't have met if he wasn't." She recalled the events of Bhujerba fondly.

"Perhaps in turn, you and I would have not met either. And so I owe my thanks to him."

"Yeah..." Penelo unhooked her arm from Rhys to face him properly. "And Balthier was a part of that as well."

Rhys opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came.

"Where is he being taken?" Penelo demanded, "Maybe if I talk to Larsa, he could get him out. It really is my fault Balthier was here to begin with."

Rhys held out a hand in caution. "Larsa is already out of the gentry's favour. If it was revealed he was involved with the release of a pirate, they would use that to tear him apart, I fear. I may be willing to turn a blind eye, but many others would not: my Uncle included."

Penelo's eyes fell to the ground, disheartened. _So the gentry's smiles and applause were all a farce after all._

"This will be another secret between us," Rhys spoke softly, a tenderness to it that eased Penelo. "It appears we are destined to keep them together, you and me."

Penelo craned her neck to look up at Rhys, his indigo eyes shining darkly in the night and his grin exuded enthusiasm. "I do believe secrets bring people closer," with strong, elegant hands he gingerly took Penelo's. "I've had a wonderful evening with you, Penelo." The towering senator bent forward to reach Penelo's left cheek, planting a chaste kiss. "And I promise you: I will personally see to it that Balthier remains unharmed. Although he and I ended our relationship on a rough note, there was a time I considered him my closest friend, and I will honor that."

A wave of relief washed over Penelo. "Thank you."

...

* * *

...

That night, Penelo couldn't bear to tell Ashe the bad news. Sleep eluded her, and guilt plagued her in its stead.

...

* * *

**Author's Note: ****Aaaand we've reached the half-way point! (just about). After this, there will be two short intermission chapters, so expect frequent updates soon!**

**I won't be returning to work until July at least, so that leaves me more time to write fic.**

**Thanks for reading and let me know what you think of the chapter!**


	12. Intermission, I: Flattery

_In Archades, secrets are buried deeper still than any treasure a pirate has discovered._

_ – DURAI, "The Truth Of The Matter"_

_..._

* * *

...

Balthier could hardly see anything in the cellar beneath the Barbanas Theatre, but he could see enough to determine that unlike his past experiences in detainment, there was no escape using wits and muscle this time.

After being handcuffed and taken outside the Barbanas Theatre, he had been hit with _Immobilize_, turning his limbs to stone. Then a blind spell, and the world went dark. Once the spell lifted, he was restrained to a chair in an underground cellar.

Inside, he saw naught but a single color. The small magicite lamps on the walls, scattered so far and few between, glowed with a dull blue light.

Indigo. Just like the banners of House Rhys, and just like the eyes of the man who ordered him to be placed in this cell.

Unfortunately, this was no ordinary jail cell, nor property of the Empire; he would've been better off if it was. Nay, this was worse: a private cell that belonged to House Rhys, with no one to see or speak to, and with time magic freezing his limbs.

_I've been here before..._

If this was House Rhys territory, Balthier would need _connections_ to get out. Unfortunately, he had severed his only real connection to the family long ago.

_Danfordt._

Never would Balthier have guessed he would see the eyes of his ex-lover again. However, the night of the Midsummer Festival proved to be full of surprises.

One of those included the fact that Danfordt was a _Senator_ now. _But how could that be,_ Balthier thought. _He was meant to inherit The Report..._

_What happened?_

As fate would have it, the man on Balthier's mind appeared before him when the door to his prison opened.

Balthier squinted at the piercing light pouring in, and he nearly missed the silhouette of a man stepping into the dark and cold cellar, closing the door behind him. It was dark again, and Balthier's eyes ached from the sudden readjustment.

At first, it was difficult to recognize the senator under the dim lighting, but there was no mistaking his prominent height, the curls of his fringe and the way he buried his hands in his pockets as he sauntered down the steps into the cellar. _I know that body well._

As Rhys approached, he stepped in front of a wall lamp, finally allowing Balthier a view of his face. The last eleven years had done the senator many favors; he was even more handsome than before, if that were even possible.

How _dare_ he?

Balthier drank in the sight of the senator's perfectly-sculpted face: from his deep-set eyes, to his symmetrical nose, cheekbones, plump lips, and of course that strong, clefted chin.

_I've nearly forgotten about that damn cleft. With it he slays men and women alike. Curse him!_

Balthier craned his neck to look Rhys in the eyes from his seated position. A smirk curled the corner of Rhys's lips. "You cut your hair," the senator greeted, his voice as smooth and proper as it ever was.

"As did you," Balthier remarked, "It suits you. Although I suppose there's less to pull on..."

Rhys's smirk dropped suddenly, and Balthier was delighted.

"Forgive me," Balthier mocked regret, "Did I offend you with memories of our sinful past? How rude of me. Let's start over, shall we?" He leaned forward, lips tight from fighting laughter at the simplicity of what he was about to ask.

"_How are you_?"

Rhys's expression was as cold as the cell. "Better than you."

Balthier glanced down at his limbs, bound by metal and magick. "Clearly. And yet, even imprisoned, I am freer than you." He waited for Rhys to respond, to glare, _something_, but when it was clear he wasn't getting anything, he decided to take another approach.

"How is Uncle Willard?" Balthier tried, "Enjoying his new job as Chairman? I can imagine the perks it grants you. For example: winning a seat in the Senate with little leadership experience beyond governing a newspaper of lies? And Senate Leader in just your second term?"

Rhys's steeled face curled into a scowl. _There it is: his offended face. I once thought it was cute._ Rhys took a step closer: a warning Balthier took no heed of.

Rhys was ever a hard shell to crack, building his walls brick by brick until his heart was impenetrable. His face was perpetually set in a polite smile, masking the mountains of turmoil beneath. Too afraid to tell _Daddy_ and _Grandpa_ he liked boys just as much as girls, and that he'd rather fly across Ivalice discovering new lands and new flavours of tea than to uphold the family tradition of becoming a Senator. Danfordt was an excellent liar, but it was never so with Ffamran, no.

Ffamran was his one weakness.

"And how is Grandpa Rhys as of late?" Balthier pressed, "Shouldn't he be on his deathbed by now?"

Rhys backhanded Balthier in the face, swift and strong, the strike echoing against stone walls.

Although his cheek stung where Rhys had struck it, Balthier laughed, fond memories of their relationship warming him with each bellow. "My apologies," he managed, "I remember well how important family is to you; that much is still true I see. But my, how you've changed besides," he returned his gaze to Rhys, whose eyes were furious, blue flames glowing darkly. "Last we rendezvoused in this dungeon, you were begging _me_ to slap _you_."

Rhys's fury left his face flushed, and he turned around, hiding like the coward he always was. "And I see you still speak with a filthy tongue," he spat, "I ought to have you gagged."

"Hmm, you would like that, wouldn't you?" Balthier purred, "To have me bound and gagged, so you can have a sense of control for one moment of your life? What would the public think if they knew their dear Senator Rhys had a taste for such erotic fantasies? I expected you to have outgrown this." Balthier shook his head. "Archadian men are so sexually repressed."

Rhys refused to react. His breath was heavy, yet slow; he was seething, Balthier could feel it.

"How _is_ your dating life these days?" Balthier continued to prod, "Word on the street is you're single." He paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Or _are_ you? Word is you escorted a certain Dalmascan ambassador to the Gala. How was your date with Penelo?"

At the mention of her name, Rhys whirled around, opening his mouth as though to yell, but stopped. His shoulders relaxed. "It went quite well, actually."

_Until I ruined it, right? You have no need for words, Danny, I can read it all over your face. Excellent._

"She's quite a catch, that one," Balthier said, smiling suggestively. "Beauty, brains, _and_ brawn. I've seen what she can do with a greatsword – terrifying, actually – not to mention her blizzaga…"

A chuckle escaped Rhys's mouth, faint and boyish. "She told me of her Blizzaga."

"Did she tell you she used it against me?"

"Really?" Rhys huffed, "No."

Balthier leaned into the back of his chair, satisfied. "Ah, _there's_ that award-winning smile."

Just as quickly as Rhys smiled at the mention of Penelo, his lips fell into a frown. "You don't deserve it."

"Of course not," Balthier admitted. "Not with the manner in which I disappeared. I _did_ leave you hanging there."

"I woke up to an empty bed," Rhys's breath trembled as he struggled to speak, "And you fleeing to the skies. I'd sooner say you left me _drowning_. You know well the suffocation we endured in this city, yet you dared leave me behind."

Balthier _did_ feel bad about it, truly. He never wished to break the nobleman's heart; after all, their affair was not intended to be reoccurring. And although _he_ could distinguish love from lust, not all had such ability.

"I am sorry." It was all he had to offer.

Rhys huffed, rolling his eyes.

"So," Balthier changed the subject, "Thirty-one and still a bachelor? I'm shocked your grandfather hasn't married you off to some noblewoman by now. And here I thought I would be the one to fly solo in my thirties."

"You're in a relationship? _You_?"

"Don't be so surprised," Balthier frowned. "But yes, I have found someone I'm willing to share the skies with – besides Fran, of course."

Rhys smiled as though he had heard a joke, "And who would have the honor? Penelo's brother, correct?"

"His name is Vaan."

"He must be special to tame a man as free as you." A hint of jealousy in Rhys's eyes was all the opening Balthier needed to strike.

"He's not afraid to be himself."

A perfectionist like Rhys had much pride, Balthier knew all too well. Shame flashed in the senator's eyes before he steeled his expression once again. "Penelo considers you family, then. No wonder she begged me to reconsider detaining you."

"And what did you tell her?"

"That it would be wise for her to steer clear of you should she wish to maintain her reputation."

"And what do you care of her reputation? Unless…" Balthier paused, shooting Rhys a suspicious look. "You _like_ her?"

Once again, Rhys's expression softened at the mention of Penelo. "She intrigues me," he said, "She's different, unlike anyone here."

"Ah, as I was different?" Balthier leaned forward as far as his restraints would allow, "As are _you_." He paused, and Rhys's posture stiffened, as though he were a cornered animal. "You never wanted any of this: the senate, the money, the prestige, none of it. And you are lying if you tell me you do. I know, because I remember. I remember all those nights when you would crawl to me whining about the weight of your family's expectations, and I would tell you to screw the lot of them, that they were not worthy of your happiness. I remember every word of it."

Balthier's words triggered Rhys's anger, chipping away at the layers of his perfect porcelain mask. "As I remember _your_ words," Rhys hissed, "But did you mean any of them? Or was it only flattery? Filthy deception worthy of a future pirate. I was a fool to believe any of it."

"You were only a fool for not joining me. But no, you chose to remain bound to your insufferable family." Balthier made sure that Rhys saw his disappointment, voicing a "Tsk, tsk" as he shook his head dramatically. "A shame, really."

"But perhaps..." Balthier continued, locking his gaze with Rhys's wounded eyes. "There is potential for good in the path you've chosen. As Senator, you have influence over the public."

Rhys narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you imply? Tell it true."

"I assume you are aware of the rumors regarding Larsa," Balthier cut to the chase. "They were written not in jest, I assure you. If either you or your family is behind this plot, you have the power to put a stop to it."

Rhys opened his mouth, but before he could deny any involvement, Balthier continued. "Believe it or no, you _can_ take the reins of your own life, just as I did. You are in a critical position to make a difference; do not squander it for the sake of comfort and approval."

"Oh? As _you_ squandered your position as Judge?"

"I have my own means to make a difference," Balthier countered, "As do you, if you are brave enough to wield it. Or will you further your silence?"

Balthier's challenge rendered Rhys speechless. The senator's face contorted in a mismatch display of anger and consideration. Rhys turned around to leave.

_I can't let him get away!_

"If he dies, you will never be free."

It was a statement powerful enough to halt Rhys where he stood. The senator's hands shook, balled in fists.

"You know the truth of it. Yes, control of Archadia would go to the Senate, led by your Uncle, who I presume serves your grandfather, and soon after I'm sure the reigns would fall to you. But do you honestly believe you would have control then? How many of your uncles, great uncles, aunts and cousins would be pulling the strings of their perfect puppet emperor?"

Rhys said nothing; however his breath was evening out. _I have his genuine attention._

"You deserve better than this," Balthier pleaded, "You deserve happiness. I believed it then as I do now."

The tremor of Rhys's fists subsided, his hands becoming relaxed and elegant once more. He turned his head, giving Balthier just a piece of his softened expression.

"You always spoke too freely." Rhys attempted to scorn, but the warmth in his tone felt more like a fond memory. It pulled Balthier to their mutual past: rough kisses on ivory skin, raven hair tangled in his fingers, trust radiating from indigo eyes...

Balthier shrugged, smiling smugly. "A quality you admired about me, or so you said, unless _that_ was only flattery?"

This earned a chuckle from Rhys, and the senator turned around to face Balthier again. "You always cared far more than you let on. Even now, with no remaining family, without a chop to your name, Archades still has your heart in her grasp."

Rhys took a step back, turning halfway around before pausing. "Never change, Ffamran – forgive me, _Balthier_. You may be Ffamran no longer, but your heart is the same. Farewell."

And with that, Rhys turned to leave, the echo of his boots filled Balthier's ears, slow and sure. Balthier could finally put himself at ease, knowing he did all he could to reach Danfordt Rhys, all from the seat of his chair.

What they once shared was an act of rebellion and a safe place to land. Balthier hadn't forgotten what it meant for him, and apparently, neither did Rhys.

_Farewell, old friend._

_..._

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! **

**This chapter was named after the song "Flattery" by Aly & AJ**


	13. Intermission, II: Duality

_A politician's false pretenses are his sword and shield. Without them, he will be devoured._

_ \- DURAI, The Truth of the Matter_

_..._

* * *

**...**

**PRIVATE SENATE MEETING FOR LEADERS ONLY. TO BE HELD IN THE OLD ROOM AT MIDNIGHT. MANDATORY. NO EXCEPTIONS.**

**\- G**

**...**

_So the Chairman requires my presence? Would that I knew of his plan, I'd have taken care not to drink so much. _

Ronulas Willmundt dismissed the young guard at his office door with a smile as he folded the note. "Thank you for delivering this to me most discreetly, good Sir. And goodnight to you."

The guard was unaccustomed to carrying out such an undocumented task on the job – that much was certain by the tremor in his voice. "Goodnight to you as well, S-Senator." With a bow, the guard saw himself out of the doorway and down the empty hall of the Senate Chambers.

_A soft man donned in armor too heavy for him, _Willmundt thought, shaking his head._ He would be the last guard on watch tonight, then. The halls should be cleared for us to conduct our meeting in confidence._

_..._

* * *

...

As usual, Willmundt was the last to arrive. With decades of experience under his belt and a reputation to show for it, there was no need to prove his worth so eagerly.

The underground room served as a meeting place for the Senate before Lord Larsa relocated them to the Palace. A picture of the past, it truly was, especially so with three hooded Senate Leaders sitting at the round table. The traditional white and red robes stood out in the darkness, illuminated only by dim amber lights. When His Excellency said to do away with their old robes, many took it as a mere suggestion. They were living in new times certainly, but there would always be those whom struggle to let go of old ways.

_A prime example of that I am, admittedly._

And so they reserved their robes for secret meetings only. For some, it was a symbol of defiance towards their young emperor; for others, it was a simple comfort.

Garamondt approached Willmundt at the entryway, grey eyes as stern as ever. "As I'm sure you are aware, there will be no record of this meeting."

"I swear to the Law and the Gran Kiltias, if that calms you," Willmundt chuckled, offering a wry smile that the Chairman would never return. "Presuming that would mean much to any of you heathens." With that he turned to address the senators already seated at the round table.

"You are much too old to fill your cup so," Garamondt chided.

"Did you find the wine to your liking?" Caine cut in, grinning at Willmundt from across the room. "My finest batch yet, if I may."

"You may indeed," Willmundt approached Caine on his way around the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. "And well deserved your pride is; 'twas your finest batch, truly."

After a word of gratitude from Caine, Willmundt made his way to the back of the room where a seat was reserved for him. The round table looked rather like a large compass, with Garamondt at north, young Rhys at east, Caine to the west, and himself at South.

It was interesting to be positioned between Caine and Rhys, who were different as night and day. The budding businessman to his left was hardly seen without a smug smile pulling at his thin lips, always sitting languidly with his hands behind his head. Caine was like fire: wild and enthusiastic, leading the senate with bold words and actions laced with theatrical charm.

Danfordt Rhys, on the other hand, was like ice. Cold and calculated, his words, smiles and laughs were carefully placed like pawns in a well-played game of chess.

Except today. The youngest senator sat with relaxed shoulders and a nostalgic smile as he gazed down onto the round table in deep thought.

"A lovely night, was it not?" Even with his voice almost at a whisper, Willmundt's question brought Rhys out of his daze. "Your date with Ambassador Penelo went well, I take it?"

To Willmundt's surprise, a blush bloomed on Rhys's face, rare as a desert rose. "Perhaps it did," he whispered, a sly smile not unbecoming of an infatuated young man.

Taking his seat at the head of the round table, Chairman Garamondt cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Enough prattle," the Chairman warned, "we have little time."

"To what do we owe this honor at such a late hour, Chairman?" Caine flashed a wry smile, "As you know, I have a business to run."

"When you were elected into the Senate, you swore to the Law that you would place your duties to the Empire above all else, did you not?"

"Well of course," Caine retracted his hands and sat upright. "Why else would I be here when I could be accounting for this evening's earnings?" Pride beamed from his face. The Chairman decided to feed him no further, dismissing Caine with only a grunt.

"As you all witnessed," Garamondt began, "Lord Larsa has announced his plan to abolish the Chop System, and asks the public to send us their opinion. An unforeseen attack befitting such a viper. How are we to quell the clamor that will surely follow?"

"Is that all?" Caine scoffed, "Archades will reject this radical bill and that will be the end of it. They will see it for what it is: a fleeting dream of a naïve child. Be not fooled by that applause; you know as well as I that was simply formality."

"Do you forget ardents form the majority of Archades' population?" Garamondt challenged, "They stand to gain the most from this bill, and they will demand Lord Larsa to purge any senator who disagrees with it. His Excellency knows this and exploits it well."

Garamondt took a deep breath, resting his chin on clasped hands. "If this bill were to pass, it would mean the power our Houses have built over generations will mean nothing, and we would compete for resources like coeurls in the wild. Your lives of comfort would be no more."

The Chairman lifted his chin and directed his gaze at Rhys. "What say you, nephew? You are yet young; you stand to lose the most from such a future."

Rhys sat taller and more stiffly now, smiles and blush long gone. _He has become ice yet again._ "…I am terrified," he said. "The Ambassador Penelo speaks of travel and trade, of cultural melting pots and prolonged peace. 'Tis all a ruse. They mean to punish us, Dalmasca and their Queen Ashelia, for what they perceive as our 'crimes of war', and they would use our traitor Emperor to do so. They wish to alter our way of life, distracting us with dance performances while they drink us dry of our wealth. I will not stand by and allow this to unfold. 'Tis my cousins' and mine own futures I fight for."

"You are justified in your fear, Rhys," Garamondt nodded firmly before roughly clearing his throat. "Lord Larsa may have reinstated the Senate, however, it is imperative to remember House Solidor's part in overthrowing House Garamondt in the Empire's youth. They invaded our military and used it to seize the throne for themselves, reducing us to a puppet Senate. It was they who erected those tyrant Judges to reinforce their power. 'Tis not chivalry that runs in their veins, but ruthless cunning, and Lord Larsa is no different. He may bear a lamb's face, but Lord Larsa is every bit a viper as his ancestors before him."

Silence filled the room as no senator challenged him.

"We have much work to do if we are to put a stop to this," Garamondt looked each senator in the eyes one-by-one. "Forego any hopes of sleep tonight; we shall not rest until a plan is put in place."

Recording this meeting may be forbidden, but Willmundt's mind was sharper still than any Judge's blade the Chairman so feared. He would commit this meeting to memory, and with the information he would set a plan of his own.

_You are not alone, Lord Larsa. Not while I still breathe._

_..._

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you like~**

**This chapter was named after the song "Duality" by Slipknot**


End file.
